


Persona 5 Plus 2: Goodbye to Ghosts

by YakFruit



Series: Persona 5 Plus [2]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s), Pre-Relationship, shumako
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2020-05-16 11:10:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 68,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19316998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YakFruit/pseuds/YakFruit
Summary: The Phantom Thieves return to the routine of Tokyo life. Yet the city slumbers uneasily under the weight of strange dreams and stranger events.  Amamiya Ren and his friends try to utilize their powers to stymie the growing crisis, but they too begin to face restless memories of the past.  ((Sequel of Between Sea and Stone))





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Opening Theme:
> 
> https://youtu.be/f8tmuqHJOJQ
> 
> ===
> 
> Author’s Note: This is a direct sequel to “Between Sea and Stone.” Plot elements and character development in this story are intended for readers who read that work first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Dedication:
> 
> This story is dedicated to the fantastic writing talent of Atlus games, and all those who helped create the masterpiece that is Persona 5.
> 
> I hope to do the source material justice with this story.

Amamiya Ren filled half his spoon with curry and then scooped up a pile of rice on top of the viscous, savory paste- creating an optimum bite. He put the spoon into his mouth, and let the flavors of the curry and rice mingle, textures flowing and replacing one another as Ren chewed. This was the signature dish of Cafe Leblanc for a reason: a phenomenal eating experience that somehow managed to be both intuitively and scientifically perfect. The culinary lovechild of Sojiro and Fuataba’s mother, the late Wataba, was unlike anything Ren had ever eaten anywhere. And though he’d eaten it for breakfast practically every day for the last year, Ren wasn’t even close to being sick of it. If anything, it only got better every day.

Sojiro stood on the other side of the counter, leaning on the surface with one hand, hovering over Ren while he ate. A habit that Ren was now used to. Sojiro was watching the morning news and intermittently drinking a cup of coffee. Ren took a sip of his own coffee, too, and as usual, this morning's brew managed to transform the lingering flavor of the curry still in his mouth.

As usual. As usual. Ren was content with that phrase this morning. A routine felt good- a normal existence like before the Phantom Thieves. No surprises. No threats. No lingering warnings or whispers of fate, destiny, danger. Just an early breakfast. A quiet moment of good company before both himself and Sojiro got on with their day.

“Good morning!,” said the jovial television in the cafe’s corner, “It is Monday, May 13th, and this is your morning, Tokyo!”

As the news program’s introductory jingle played, Ren felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He made a mental note to check it later. One surefire way to irritate Sojiro was to look at a phone during a meal. In Sojiro’s opinion, meals were for the people nearby, not the people far away. Ren respected that and took another bite of curry.

He glanced at Morgana as he chewed, the black cat was snoozing lightly in the chair next to him. Morgana, the spirit animal sent to guide the Phantom Thieves through prior dangers, held a more active nightly schedule, often leaving in the wee hours of the morning and returning as Ren was waking up. So he habitually snoozed through Ren’s breakfasts, and most of the morning commute in Ren’s bag.

“Alarming news out of Shibuya this morning,” said the female anchor moments after she appeared on the screen, “It appears three unrelated suicides have blocked traffic due to responding law enforcement teams. Authorities are reporting that three different people, two women and one man, all leapt to their deaths from buildings throughout Shibuya in the early hours of this morning.”

“Hoo boy…” sighed Sojiro to himself, frowning.

“This unprecedented event caused a stir in the headquarters of the National Police, and NATPOL elected to take over the investigation in lieu of the local Shinjuku precinct. Junior Commissioner Toyotoma Seito made a brief statement on the steps of the National Police Agency Building at Number 1, Chiyoda City, early this morning:”

The television switched to a middle-aged man with close-buzzed hair and serious, intense eyes. “At this time, we are looking into all three incidents, but initial investigation has found no link between the three victims. There also appears to be no evidence of foul play in any of the incidents. That’s all I have to say at this time.”

The TV went black. Sojiro sighed and put the remote control back on the counter behind the bar. “Terrible news to start a day. I hate suicide. Such a terrible waste. And the worst part is, everything gets better. And everything gets worse, too. What’s that saying? ‘All this too will change’?”

“All this too will change?’” Ren repeated.

“Yeah. It’s some old myth I remember hearing. A sultan wanted a ring with a saying that held a supreme truth, and so they made him a ring that said ‘All this too will change,’ meaning that good times and bad times are finite. In the end, they always end in change.” Sojiro sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “That’s why suicide bothers me so much. If they would just hang on, things would get better, because nothing ever stays the same.”

“Maybe they fear it getting worse.”

“Maybe. But I used to worry a lot about it. After Wakaba…” Sojiro looked through his glasses directly at Ren, the ghost of old fear in his eyes, “I thought I might lose Futaba the same way…”

Ren held his gaze for a few moments, the older man’s eyes flickering slightly between Ren’s own. Then, Sojiro looked away. “Ah, old fears don’t matter. You all did something for Futaba, so now I don’t have to be afraid of something like that. So- thanks.”

Ren couldn’t think of any appropriate response to such a statement, so a silence stretched between them.

“Anyway,” said Sojiro, “wash that plate up and get moving. I need to open up and you need to get going to school. And so does Futaba. Where is that girl?”

“I’ll go by the house and pick her up.”

“Thanks.”

Ren washed his plate. Then he woke up Morgana who hopped obligingly into his bag. And they headed out for the day. When the doorbell of Cafe Leblanc chimed as the door shut behind him, Ren took out his phone while his feet carried him the well-worn path to the Sakura house, just a little further down the business alley. The text earlier was from Makoto.

==Q: I don’t have class today and I want to visit Shujin. Look for me at Shibuya so we can ride together!

Ren felt a surge of excitement. Seeing Makoto this morning was a pleasant surprise. After spending every day together over the spring break, 24/7, returning to their somewhat separate lives and living conditions in Tokyo had been an unpleasant shock. But she was in her first year at Waseda University, and Ren was in his final year of high school. By necessity, they traveled separate paths most of their days. It was just one of the challenges of dating an older woman. But there were endless perks to it, too.

==J: Great! I’ll be looking for you. I’ll be the guy in glasses. And you’ll be? The woman of my dreams?

He looked up to check where he was walking, and something white in the corner of his vision gained his attention. He turned his head to look down a narrow alley. A large, white Akita dog was watching him. Ren stopped walking instinctively, returning the dog’s gaze. It was a beautiful animal, and it had an interesting ring of reddish fur on its forehead. He’d never seen a dog like it before.

His phone buzzed in his hand. Ren looked down.

==Q: wow...  
==Q: Too cheesy. See you soon.

Oh well, not every line could be good. He looked back up. The dog was gone. Maybe someone had moved into the neighborhood, or maybe it was just a stray. Ren continued on his way.

Ren arrived at the Sakura house, a modest two-story home crammed with all the others of the neighborhood. A hollow block wall and gate marked the edge of the property, but the front door to the building itself was a scant four paces or so away from that line. It was a luxury of space in a city like Tokyo, however. Ren rang the buzzer on the gate.

No response.

He rang it again. “Futaba! Hey! Futaba!”

The house door shot open and a frantic Futaba appeared, lunch bag in mouth, one shoe on, the other being hopped into, and a portable game console in one hand. Ren watched her sort herself out. She arrived at the gate, breathing heavily.

“I’m ready.’

“What about your school bag?”

Futuaba let out a squeak, turned, and ran back into the house.

“It’s been a month already...” said Morgana.

“Sojiro says she gets everything ready the night before, too,” said Ren.

Did Futuaba freeze up in the morning, worrying about school? About social interactions of the day? Was it some sort of anxiety related to her previous shut-in lifestyle that upends everything in the morning? Was Ren missing something? The weight of worry for Futaba settled on Ren’s shoulders. Maybe there was some problem he could help fix for the girl.

When Futaba came back out, they started their walk to the subway station.

“Futaba, you seem to have trouble being ready in the morning. Is something bothering you every day?”

“Yes,” said Futaba, matter of factly, “this world boss spawns like, two minutes before it’s time to go, and it’s the only time of day it appears! It drops this item I really need! But if not enough players show up, it takes longer to kill. It always makes me late!”

Well… Ren supposed that was some sort of problem, but not exactly one he was fearing. It was a relief. That didn’t sound like anything Ren needed to worry about- that was a problem for her father.  
They arrived at the subway station and filed onto a car.

“How come you don’t have a computer, Ren?” Futaba said suddenly.

“I don’t know. I never thought about it. I guess I don’t have any need for one, especially since I know you. You’re better at that stuff than I ever could be, I’m sure.”

“I don’t mean for work. I mean for games and things.”

“I have that game console in my room for that.”

“That thing is a relic. I mean new games!”

“I never thought about it. I guess I don’t really have time to interact with that stuff.”

“Because you’re always interacting with Makoto, right?”

Ren’s eyes shifted to Futaba. She was looking away from him, appearing a little downcast. What was she getting at?

“I suppose. I enjoy spending my time with her, so I don’t have anything left over for a computer like you do.”

“What if I’m tired of just having my computer? What if I want a Makoto, too? Someone with a face that talks back- not a screen. I’m tired of screens.”

“You have all of us.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Ren did know it. His adoptive sister was asking him about romance. What to do? What to say? Well- his advice worked for Ryuji and Yusuke once, so maybe it will work for Futaba, too.

“Just talk to people. Get to know them. When it happens to be the right person, it will just click.”

“Click? Is it really that easy? Why do we have so many shows and movies about people trying to find love if it's really that easy?”

Ren hadn’t thought about that. He remembered Ann saying he and Makoto were really lucky when they spoke about this sort of thing on the balcony of the Aviary Resort. And now Futaba was basically saying the same thing.

“I don’t know, Futaba. But that’s how it worked for me. People are different, but people can also be the same, too. Maybe you’re like me. Just talk to people, get interested in their lives, and see what happens.”

Futaba didn’t respond, but her eyes were off to the side- the direction she usually looked when she was thinking. They rode the rest of the way to Shibuya in silence. Morgana had nothing to add, which meant he must be sleeping in Ren’s bag.

Their train arrived in Shibuya and Ren and Futaba exited their subway car and ran into the rear of a massive press of humanity. People were queuing up to ride the escalators to the upper level of the subway station, and it appeared the people near the top were waiting for their turn to move somewhere in the bustle they could hear overhead.

Ren realized it was the traffic problems from the suicide incidents. More people must be on the trains today with the busses delayed, and now the entire system was backing up from the sheer volume of people trying to move around the city through a single transit system. It was going to be a slow process to even get to their connecting train.

Futaba looked at the ocean of people with obvious hesitation. Ren took her hand. “Just stay close to me. You’ve done this plenty of times.”

“Right.”

They pushed into the line and stood. Moving forward a few steps every few moments. He took out his phone and found a group chat was already going. He hadn’t felt the vibration for some reason. Futaba took hers out, too, and they both shuffle walked with humanity while chatting. The phone helped distract Futaba from the press of strangers, too.

==F: the press of humanity in Shibuya is extreme. I’m going to be truant.  
==S: you’re going to be a tree person?  
==O: thats treant  
==P: truant means absent, moron.  
==S: then just say absent!  
==N: whats going on?  
==Q: Shibuya station is backed up. Probably because of the suicide investigations blocking the roads.  
==S: suecides?  
==P: suicides?  
==N: yes, i saw it on the news.  
==J: 3 people jumped off 3 different buildings this early am in Shibuya  
==F: a tragic fate  
==S: 4 real?  
==Q: and no connection between them.  
==S: man if yer gonna kill yourself, do it someplace where it wont bother the whole city  
==O: ugh  
==F: how vulgar  
==P: thats terrible Ryuji  
==N: think before you speak  
==S: jeeze, gang up on Ryuji morning is it?  
==O: its always gang up on stupid morning  
==S: okay okay lay off already

Ren received a notification on his side-chat with Makoto. He opened it.

==Q: we’ll never meet up in this mess. Let’s just get on the train where we can and see each other at the Shujin stop  
==J: k

The chats went quiet, so Ren put away his own phone. Futuaba started playing some sort of mobile game and lost herself in it, so Ren put a hand on her shoulder and gently guided her through the crowd. It was an odd morning, but that group chat felt good. It felt like the Phantom Thieves as they always were. He was still anxiously awaiting the aftermath of the battle on the mountain top, but so far nothing seemed amiss.

But Ren didn’t let himself think that he and his friends were going to be just as they always were after the mountain top. They’d killed people. People who were ruthlessly trying to eliminate them, but killing in self-defense was still killing. And they’d surely been traumatized by the stress, fear, and most of them had even been shot at least once. The Phantom Thieves faced a great deal of terrible things in the old Metaverse, but this latest battle with human beings. Real people. It felt so very different.

The remainder of the road trip to Ren’s hometown went off without a hitch. They left Matsuzaki and linked with the bullet train and simply took local trains to Odo. He surprised everyone that he’d arranged to live in Tokyo for his third year of high school (well, except for Makoto who already knew), and the visit with his parents went well. Then it was a simple train ride back, and in seemingly no time at all, they were now over a month into the new school year. The new normal. The new routine. And still- nothing. Everyone seemed exactly as they were before.

It couldn’t be that easy. That consequence-free. Ren had seen movies and read books, and from what he understood: people didn’t come back from war and just… go on being the same person they were before. It changed them. Maybe not disastrously, but it changed them. And that mountain top- that was as close to war as Ren ever wanted to get. Fear. Bullets. Blood. Screaming. Death. It was more than enough.

What had Sojiro said this morning? This too will change? As in, this current state of relaxed routine… it couldn’t last. Something was coming and it was going to change everything. It was just a matter of time. But perhaps this was paranoia? It sure sounded like paranoia. Makoto was quick to pick up on him getting into these cognitive traps of his. He should try and worry about this when he was with her because she would probably find the way to dispel it.

After enough time passed to ensure that Ren and Futaba would both be late for classes, they reached the train to Shujin Academy. They both again found themselves crushed in a press of people, jostling into each other and their neighbors with every jolt of the car. Futaba seemed a bit nervous again, but otherwise in control of herself.

“You okay?” said Ren.

“Yeah. I’ve been through a few crush rides like this. But it makes me understand how the women in the cartoons could have such a bad time on crowded trains.”

“... What kind of cartoons are you watching?”

Futaba’s face froze in shock, realizing she’d just let something slip. Then she blushed furiously. “None of your business, Ren!”

They rode in silence until they reached the stop for Shujin Academy. Futaba was now a first year, though a bit old for that grade due to her “shut-in” year. Ren, Ryuji, and Ann were third-years, the final year. Yusuke was also a third-year, but he attended a different school. Finally, Haru and Makoto were alumni, both graduates of Shujin. Makoto was now enrolled at Waseda University. Haru was running her late father’s food empire while studying a business degree online. Morgana was, as always, a cat. His knowledge was more or less pre-installed by That which created him.

Upon exiting the subway car, Ren spotted Makoto waiting near a wall, her eyes searching the departing crowd. Those eyes met his. Makoto smiled her usual reserved public smile. Ren felt his mouth break into a grin of its own accord. His mood lightened and the worries of this morning were entirely forgotten. The sight of her went through him like a cool summer breeze.

They approached one another, Ren’s passion reinvigorated by Makoto’s distinct crimson eyes; her sharp features; defined chin; tidy, short black hair; and her lithe figure which hinted at the surprising physical strength she possessed. This was his partner in life, and he loved looking at her- being apart only made that feeling stronger. As did the look of muted excitement on Makoto’s face as she looked at him. They drew together in the dispersing crowd.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she said.

They stared at each other for a moment, oblivious to the world. It was an unwritten rule that they generally didn’t hug or kiss in public, so they stood close and stared, eyes dancing into each other.

Futaba sighed loudly, intentionally breaking the spell.

“Yes,” said Makoto, blinking and blushing ever so slightly. She checked her watch. “You two need to hurry. First period started a bit ago.”

“Teachers understand subway congestion,” said Ren as they started walking.

“That doesn’t mean you should take advantage, Ren. There is a difference between being late and being intentionally tardy.”

“Should I run?”

“Perhaps walk with alacrity.”

Futaba’s face was turning between the two of them as they talked. “What was Makoto like as student council president?”

“Pretty much like this,” said Morgana from Ren’s bag.

“Har-har,” said Makoto.

“What are your plans at the school?” said Ren.

“I thought I would see some of my teachers on their breaks and check in on the student council. My subordinate won the election, so I’m interested to see how he is doing.”

“Checking in on your political legacy?’

Makoto let out a short laugh. “Did you all agree to tease me this morning? But- yes. I suppose in a way I am. Who knows what people will become? I need to maintain my networking.”

Ren realized this was a part of her ambition to become a police commissioner. Makoto was already laying down the foundation for something decades in the future, hedging her bets that the people she knows today will grow up to be valuable contacts in the future. It was both impressive, and a little scary. What kind of woman would Makoto eventually become? He thought about the Junior Police Commissioner Toyotomo Seito, who was on the television this morning. Ren found it easy to replace that man’s serious face with Makoto’s, her crimson eyes fierce, her jaw set in the face of the news cameras and microphones. Could Ren handle the person Makoto seemed destined to become?

What kind of thought was that? Ren smiled to himself and easily punted that doubt out his mind forever. Makoto wasn’t someone who was handled. She was a force that he was lucky to be allied with; a partnership that he hoped would be his life’s pleasure to maintain.

“What are you smiling about?” said Makoto, suspiciously.

“Nothing. I mean- Uh- yakisoba pan. I think there might be some in the school today.”

“Lies,” said Morgana.

Ren resettled his bag on his shoulder, shaking Morgana off balance.

“Hey! Revenge just proves I’m right!”

* * *

 

They split up at the entrance, Makoto headed to the office to announce her visitation, and Ren and Futaba headed deeper into the building. First years were the lowest ranking students, so Futaba needed to climb to the third floor. Ren continued on past the stairwell and walked down the hallway towards the 3rd year rooms.

As he passed, Ren craned his neck to look inside 3C, Ryuji’s class. He was in there, laughing at something. He seemed to get along with his seatmates at least. Next was 3B. Ann was equally easy to spot through that window, her blond hair made it seem like someone with a spotlight followed her around everywhere in Japan. She was quiet, gloomy, looking out the classroom window and not talking with anyone.

Ren frowned as she passed out of his sight. Ann seemed to carry isolation around with her like a keychain. Even after the last year, that had not changed. But that gloomy sadness. Was that just because it was a Monday, or was there something else going on inside? Of anyone on the Mountain Top, Ann had been the most destructive; saving all of their lives, while taking the most lives to do it. And Ann’s persona used fire. It was… messy.

Ren realized that in his simple joy at seeing Makoto this morning, he forgot to talk to her about his worries over the Mountain Top’s aftermath. The psychological fallout that he was expecting, but not yet seeing. Well- it’s not like that was the right place or the right time. And Futaba and Morgana were with them. Ren only shared his doubts with Makoto, no one else. He feared that if the rest of the team were fully aware of how much the Joker mystique of his was a show of bravado, if they knew how many doubts riddled his soul like swiss cheese, they would all lose faith in him as their leader. And they would have never picked him as their leader after taking down their first target, Kamoshida, a teacher of this very school.

No. Only Makoto could know. She understood.

But for now, he needed to make it through school today. He was good at hiding doubts. What was a few hours, a few days, a few weeks? And the Phantom Thieves would perhaps be ready to think about their next target. Maybe a mission is what they needed. Something to focus them all. Reorient their priorities on justice, their perspectives on the victims of this world. The investigation, the battles, the success. It was a cathartic crucible to which they were addicted. Perhaps the familiar pattern of action would cleanse them all.

Ren entered his classroom, 3A, a reality from his #1 class ranking last year. Ms. Chouno, the always gaudily-dressed English teacher, turned and frowned at him as he entered.

“Mr. Amamiya. Trouble on the subway, I take it?” she said in a way that clearly announced her displeasure.

“Yes, I am very sorry,” Ren did his best to look contrite and he bowed slightly.

“No one else was late. Just you.”

“I have no excuse.” Ren bowed again.

Ms. Chouno seemed mollified. She waved her hand in an imperious way, indicating he should make way to his seat. Ren did so, remaining tense. Ms. Chouno was the most subtle of his teachers- her style was to lull a student into a false sense of security and then strike.

Meanwhile, the rest of the class was whispering and giggling to each other. They liked to see Ren in hot water. He’d started his time here as a rumored violent delinquent which everyone acted like they were afraid of. Then he’d blown all of them out of the water in exam scores, rocketing himself to the top of the class, and now it was just old-fashioned, run-of-the-mill jealousy. If the top student was torn down, then maybe they could ascend.

Fools.

No. No- That was unfair... Children. Ren’s classmates were still children. With rare exceptions, none of these young people would ever experience anything close to what the Phantom Thieves experienced, what Ren and the others saw, felt, bled, and killed. Eventually, Ren’s classmates would mature. Become adults. But even then, most would never reach the same level that the Phantom Thieves were at right now. It wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t even a problem. It was a blessing. And Ren reminded himself that preserving that blessing of innocence for his classmates, and all other children in Japan, was the self-pledged goal of the Phantom Thieves’ new existence.

Ren sat down. After one final scowl in his direction, Ms. Chouno returned her attention to the class as a whole.

“I’ve been hinting for the last month that this year would jump your English comprehension to the next level. We’re done with just conversational studies. That’s second year stuff. This year, we are getting into literature! This year, you will have multiple reading assignments surrounding some of the foundational stories of western society and culture!”

Ms. Chouno paused dramatically.

The class as a whole blinked at her sleepily.

Undeterred, she plowed on:

“And what better place to start than the West’s own archipelago of high culture and society: Greece!”

“But they speak Greek…”

“Mr. Watanabe, you can see me after school today. I’ll have some work for you.”

A groan.

“Yes, the people of Greece speak Greek. And the ancient people of India spoke Sanskrit. But the texts of the Buddha were translated from Sanskrit, to Chinese, to Japanese. Thus we have Japanese Buddhism. In the same way, the texts of the ancient Greeks were translated to Latin, to English. And so we will read their stories in English.”

“The ancient Greeks told many stories to explain why the world works as it does. The first myth we are going to study this year is the myth which explains the reason for the change of the seasons. It’s a tale of lust, crime, kidnapping, and a mother’s sorrow.”

Ms. Chouno’s eyes began roving the class. Ren tensed. It was time. It was only an act. He knew instinctively who her target would be.

“Mr. Amamiya! Can you tell me the name of the Greek goddess of the harvest?”

All eyes in the class shifted to him. The Greek goddess of the harvest? He’d seen a great number of shadows in the Metaverse, all of which resembled various gods, demons, and mythological creatures… but classify them by culture of origin? That was Makoto’s territory. Time was running out. A greek goddess. A greek female name. He only knew one of those. Ehhh... it was better than nothing.

“Helen?”

Ms. Chouno frowned and shook her head. “Helen of Troy? No, no. The answer is Demeter. The Greeks believed she granted fertility of both field, and of women… if you know what I mean, ladies.” She turned and began writing on the board in English: D-E-M-E...

Giggles, and also assorted jeers at Ren: So much for Mr. #1; He’s not so smart after all; I bet Niijima gave him all the answers last year; yeah they studied in the library together all the time; cheated in the library all the time you mean; did all kinds of things together all the time you mean; ooohhh hehehehe.

“Hush!” shouted Ms. Chouno, whipping back around. “Ms. Kobayashi. Since you seem so talkative, you can read the first two paragraphs out loud to the class.”

“Eeep!”

More giggles.

Ren sighed, pushed his glasses up the ridge of his nose, and then looked out the classroom window. The same Tokyo sat out there, same as it ever was. All this too will change? Maybe that didn’t apply to high school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This story is simultaneously maintained on Fanfiction.net in a censored, SFW form. This version on AO3 will be the full version of the story- the Director's Cut, if you will. The differences are not major or essential to the plot, but this is a story of young adults, life-or-death conflicts, and natural reproductive urges- all of which influence the characters and their reactions.
> 
> The characters of Persona 5 have experiences and a mental maturity which lends them to acting and behaving as adults- as adults more mature and admirable than many real world adults ever manage in their lifetimes. The characters will encounter adult situations at certain points of the story, and in this version of the story, the experience will be explicitly depicted. If you want to avoid that, but still enjoy this read, feel free to check out the PG-13 version on the other site.
> 
> In short, in the video game, if you went on a date with someone and brought them to your room, the screen would then go black and time would pass. In this version of the story, the screen doesn't go black. Fanfiction.net has the other version.


	2. Chapter 2

Niijima Makoto felt a strange sense of nostalgia as she climbed to the second floor where the student council room could be found. How many times had she climbed these stairs to go to that room? Hundreds? Thousands? And now she was doing it again, but she wasn’t a student here. She wasn’t a member of the student council, nor was she its president. She was its past. 

How quickly things slip into the realm of what once was. The alumni who was once a student. The Phantom Thief who once was a useless sister. The daughter who once had a father. Makoto shivered slightly as she turned to walk down the familiar hallway- if she had Yusuke’s skill in art, she could draw this place from memory. Close her eyelids and she could see it down to the streaks of lazy floor waxing performed by the students. 

Her graduation was less that four months ago, and she was acting like it was half a lifetime. But that was before The Mountain Top. Everything before that felt like a lifetime ago, and before that, Above the Clouds, another divider in the history of Niijima Makoto. She was double separated from everything that was once her. A limited her.   
Now she was finding her way through places that looked like her past life, but she was on a different path. She walked to the student council room as a visiting adult, not a president. She still rode the subway past Shubuya, but went north to Waseda, not east to Shujin. She didn’t go home to a dinner table with Sae and dad... on good nights, she went home to a table with Sae and Ren. Like a new maze of life was created from a shuffled tileset of her memory. It looked the same, but the pathways and exits were different.

She reached the door and shoved away the feeling. It was a feeling she couldn’t pin down. Nostalgic. Sad. But also hopeful… and correct. All at once. She would ask Ren about it later. Talking to him about this kind of thing helped her figure it out and put it to rest. For now, she needed to set it aside and attend to the matter at hand. Checking on her political legacy, as Ren so eloquently put it.

She put her hand on the door and almost pulled it open. Then she paused. This wasn’t her territory anymore. She knocked.

“Come in,” said a male voice. Takahashi, her subordinate last year. He used to be devoted and intuitive when focused, but a slacker if he didn’t have anything to do. Once Makoto figured that out, she’d piled just enough busywork on him to keep him focused, but enough slack to turn the surplus energy into something constructive. That constructive thing had been an information net of wallflower kids who ended up being a reliable source of rumors, gossip, and plain information from all over the school. Takahashi, either by design or accident, made himself into an intelligence man- or a spymaster- depending on your point of view.

Makoto opened the door. A slightly chubby young man with neck-length black hair looked casually at the door, then Takahashi shot out of his chair, eyes wide. “Ms. Niijima! What can I do for you?”

Makoto could not help but smile at his intensely earnest face. “Mr. Takahashi, I was just visiting some of my old teachers and I wanted to see how you were doing. Please relax.”

Takahashi made a visible attempt to relax, settling back into his seat. Makoto took the chair across the table. It almost felt like it used to.

“So,” said Makoto, “How is your year starting so far?”

“Very well. No Kamoshida. No mafia. No Phantom Thieves A principal that actually runs the school. It’s like easy mode, Ms. Niijima. Nothing at all like last year.”

Makoto smiled. “That sounds wonderful.”

“It feels lucky. I saw what last year did to you- I don’t know how you managed it.”

“Good friends. And good subordinates. You helped me through it, too,” said Makoto, “And it looks like you learned how it worked. I was impressed with your election. I heard you defeated two athlete captains. Populists are difficult opponents.”

Takahashi rolled his eyes. “They loved the fat jokes. But some interesting recordings were somehow obtained of both of them saying some pretty nasty things about all sorts of people. And those recordings somehow got on the internet.” Takahashi put on an innocent look.

Makoto carefully kept her face neutral. Illicit recordings and public exposure was a dangerous tool with negative connotations. But if it was just the person’s own words, unmanipulated- was that not simply an exposure of truth? Regardless, she was not here to burn a bridge with Takahashi. A man who could build a spy network and attain political power in a high school, such as it was, could be a useful ally in the future. Or a dangerous enemy. Or just an average person, come to think of it. But investments were inherently optimistic endeavors.

“I see,” Makoto said in a neutral voice. “Well, then you have nothing to challenge you? No problems to keep your time?”

Takahashi settled back in his chair. “Not really. There is some debate over opening the roof up again, but no one really has their hearts in it. No one wants another… fall. Discussion is starting to just switch to decorating the fences. I think the most popular idea is to grow vines on them like a trellis.”

“Oh, Haru would love that!”

“Haru? Oh, you mean Ms. Okumura? That 3rd year gardner whose dad died?”

Makoto pursed her lips at the lack of tact, but Haru wasn’t here to be hurt by it. “Yes. That’s her.”

“She would be really useful for that. Too bad she graduated. But- well, other than that, nothing. Well- one thing recently, but I don’t think it’s actually a thing.”

“What is it?”

“Nightmares. Lot’s of nightmares. Students are talking about them all over the school.”

“The same nightmare?” said Makoto, her curiosity piquing.

“I don’t have much information on the specifics. I just know lots of people are talking about nightmares, and they started maybe two months ago, and seem to be getting more common.”

“They started during the break?”

“Yeah, and talk started the first day of school even, lots of people were talking about nightmares they had over break.”

“You have your network report on mundane things like that?”

“They tell me everything they hear as they walk around, not just mundane things.”

This was odd news. Lots of nightmares. And then Makoto’s brain connected that with the odd news of the suicides this morning.

“Any talk of suicide, depression, or anything like that?”

“No. And I would immediately report that to the staff. That’s part of the reason I made the network. No more Shiho’s. No more silent victims. No more Kamoshidas slinking in the dark.”

Makoto realized she might have missed out on a major ally in Takahashi last year. That statement sounded Phantom Thieves-y. But her attention had been so focused on the Phantom Thieves and their issues outside Shujin, that she hadn’t spent much time thinking about securing ‘cleansed’ territory like Shujin from new problems. Now, here was her old student council VP wrapping up Shujin Academy in a sort of guardian angel spy-ring. 

“Can I give you my number?” said Makoto.

Takahashi’s eyes went wide. “What!? You’re not dating Amamiya anymore?”

Makoto’s eyes went wide. Dating Ren? Where did that topic come from? 

“What? What does that have to do with anything?”

Takahashi became very red. “Sorry. I must have misunderstood. What do you want me to do with your number?”

Why did he suddenly ask her about Ren? Why was he blushing? He was acting very strange, but Makoto supposed it didn’t matter right this moment. She could figure it out later. “Tell me if you find out anything else about these nightmares, or anything else that might seem… irregular to normal life.”

“... Irregular to normal life…”

“Right. So, let’s exchange phone IDs.” As the process completed, Makoto saw that it was getting past mid-morning. With the subways so backed up, she needed to get moving if she was going to meet Sae for lunch near her office. “I have to go. Don’t forget to keep me up to date, Mr. Takahashi.”

The young man was still red and breathing heavily, averting his eyes. “Yes. Of course. No problem, Ms. Niijima.”

Makoto stood and left the room, closing the door behind her. Maybe he had allergies? That must be it.

===

The Tocho, or the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building, was a giant, two-pronged edifice north of Shibuya. The SIU, along with many other government agencies, both federal and municipal, were housed within the dual skyscraper. Makoto rode the train back west from Shujin to get out relatively close to the restaurant where she was to meet Sae for lunch. A soba place. Sae loved soba. Cold noodles. Because the hot noodles were always in soup, and that was just too messy for Sae’s wardrobe.

Makoto was a little early, but she decided to head into the restaurant and get them a table. To her surprise, Sae was already there. Her sister looked up from her phone with a small smile as Makoto sat down.

“Makoto, I’m happy you could join me.”

“Me too. This is nice. It seems like it’s been years since you had free time during the day.”

“There is always work to be done,” said Sae, “but in the past, I let that thought rule me. But no more. And I have staff to do the work for me while I have a leisurely lunch.” Sae grinned.

Makoto laughed. A wave of modest joy flowed through her. This was the old Sae- the one she grew up with as a child. Finally, after the distortion of her sister’s palace, the frustration of the Shido investigation, and the wrapup of the chaos of Matsuzaki… Niijima Sae was finally finding time to be who she was, the elder Niijima sister- not just Prosecutor Niijima. Of course, she was still straight-laced, still serious, but she was now displaying that streak of irreverence that had always been a shocking joy to Makoto in the past. 

“But that is all of work I intend to mention for the next…” Sae looked at her watch. “Hour and fifteen minutes. So, tell me, how was your classless morning?”

“Very nice. Just Shibuya was clogged up due to the closure of the roads.”

“Ah yes, the suicide cases. I imagine people were avoiding the buses.”

“They were. And so I had to meet Ren and Futaba at the stop for the school.”

A small smile developed in the corner of Sae’s mouth. “You had to meet Ren, huh?”

Makoto felt her cheeks warm a little, but she and Ren had been together for almost a year- and probably been through more together in that time than lifelong partners do in eighty years. The embarrassment of being involved with someone was finally starting to fade. Now it felt like... It was more like… the way things were supposed to be.

“I like seeing him. He likes seeing me.” Makoto said in a playfully challenging tone.

“Of course,” Sae’s grin widened to a full smile. “I must have used the wrong tone.”

Sae was retreating. Makoto instinctually decided to push the advantage against her sister. She so rarely had the chance. “And how about you, sis? Anyone you desire to see?

Sae’s face collapsed into her old stoic frown, but the barest hint of a rosy blush appeared on her upper cheeks. Got her! Makoto fought back a spike of glee at finding a gap in Sae’s armor- it was such a rare event. Sae’s eyes flicked away and looked out the window.

“I don’t have time for such things.”

“Sae. You choose not to make time for such things. You know very well that I’m not an idle person but I make time for Ren.”

“Yes, of course. Well…” 

“Is there someone? Maybe… Seito? The Junior National Police Commissioner? Didn’t you oversee the Matsuzaki situation with him?”

Sae’s blush increased to a brighter red, but she turned and frowned sadly at Makoto. “No. Well- yes. I’ve had such… thoughts. But it’s pointless.” 

Sae looked away again. “He’s married. And happy. Not that it would matter if he wasn’t.” 

Sae’s eyes shifted back to Makoto. “Happy, I mean.” She smiled. “If he were not married, however…” 

Makoto laughed politely, but she was slightly disturbed. Sae was... sad. She had a crush and it was dead on arrival. But it meant she wanted someone. Someone to share her life with, to adventure with, smile and laugh with- like Ren. Sae wanted her own version of Ren. As anyone probably would. 

Could Makoto help her sister with this issue? What happened in romantic movies? The career woman, too busy for romance... it was practically a trope. And they found romance through the intervention of another character- a match is made, and either it surprisingly works, or love is found for the businesswoman unexpectedly while the original matchmaking plan went up in flames. Either way, the movie ends with love. Obviously, this was real life, not some fictional story. But it was worth a shot.

“How about I set you up with someone?”

“What?”

“You know- like a blind date. Like the movies we used to watch.”

“Don’t be absurd, Makoto. I’m not having my little sister fix me up with someone. Who do you even know? College freshmen?”

Makoto pursed her lips. Sae was trying to get nasty and deflect the suggestion. “I know people!”

“Like?”

Damn! Makoto didn’t know that many people. Her mind searched for an answer. “Well, Ren meets lots of-”

“No! Absolutely not, Makoto! You are not going to ask your highschool boyfriend to set me up with someone. As if some kid could-”

“He’s eighteen! And even so, Ren is NOT a kid,” said Makoto sternly. “You know that better than anyone.”

Sae gritted her teeth. She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. Eyes going back out the window again. “That may be so, but still: No. I refuse.”

That was Sae digging in her heels. Any further attempt at the topic would just make her angry, and Makoto still wanted to enjoy lunch with her sister. 

“Fine,” said Makoto, putting the tone of defeat in her voice. “Let’s change the subject.”

“How about what you want for lunch? I’m getting the dry soba.”

Makoto lifted up her menu to hide her smile. Sae hadn’t noticed that Makoto never promised not to tell Ren. There were plenty of ways outside of a blind date to… engineer things. Makoto felt a little thrill of mischievous excitement. This is what normal little sisters got to do, right? Meddle in their big sister’s love life!

===

“So we’re going to visit Yusuke’s studio?” Ann said as Ren and Ryuji walked with her out of the school. “He said he has some painting he wants us to see.”

“He didn’t say anything to me,” said Ren.

“Me either,” said Ryuji. 

They looked at each other, then over at Ann.

Ann blushed. “What are you two implying? He probably just forgot!”

“I wonder…” said Ren.

Morgana popped out of Ren’s bag. “I’ll go with you, Lady Ann!”

“Why? Do you think I need an escort? It’s Yusuke!”

“Yusuke does tend to ask for naked models,” said Ryuji.

“He did that once! And besides,” Ann became thoughtful, “I don’t think the request for nudity is actually about the female body, but a removal of the corruption of clothing. I think he desires his subject to be purely his subject, or something.”

“It sounds like something you’ve thought about,” said Ryuji.

Ann blushed again, then her face grew fierce. “So? Is it wrong for girls to think, Ryuji? Just because you don’t do it, doesn’t mean I can’t!”

“What?”

“Nothing! And it’s not like it’s private. Anyone can come. Come on, Morgana!” She turned and walked away from them with tense shoulders.

“Ok!” 

Ren felt his bag shudder as Morgana leaped out of it and followed Ann down the alleyway.

Ren and Ryuji watched them go, Ryuji rubbing the back of his head. 

“What the hell just happened?”

His phone buzzed. Ryuji took it out, his face growing serious. He glanced at Ren. “Sorry dude, I can’t hang, got some things to do for my mom.”

“Sure.”

“See ya!”

Ryuji walked off in another direction, leaving Ren standing alone, a still stone amidst the dwindling tide of students heading back to their lives outside of Shujin Academy. Futaba shoved past him, nose buried in her phone.

“Hey! Futaba!”

“See ya, Ren. I got things.” shouted Futaba as she continued without looking back.

Well, it was a good sign that the nervousness from the congestion this morning certainly wasn’t bothering her now. Ren took his own phone out. Makoto had the day off. He could spend the afternoon with her. Ren felt a warmth of excitement fill him as he opened up his ongoing chat with Makoto.

==J: what’s up?  
==Q: sorry, Sae and I made plans at lunch today. Sister night.

Ren’s mood fell. But Makoto loved Sae deeply- the weeks of Sae’s Palace had been basically torture to Makoto. Now that all that was long done, they could really reconnect again. So there was nothing to be done. He would see Makoto tomorrow. 

==J: kk sounds nice  
==Q: Talk to you tomorrow. < 33  
==Q: *<3

Ren laughed to himself. An emote from Makoto? She must be picking up things from Futaba, or that Eiko friend of hers.

Well, it seemed all of his friends were occupied today, except maybe Haru. Maybe he should check in on her. He started walking towards the subway station, figuring he would go to Shibuya as it was something of a center to wherever he might end up going.

==J: whats up, Haru?  
==N: Hey! Is something happening?  
==J: Nothing. Wanna hang out?  
==N: if you can get to Fukuoka, sure. hehe. 

Kyushu!

==J: ???  
==N: had to fly out for a meeting. I’ll be back tomorrow.   
==J: kk safe trip. Bring us cool southern snacks.  
==N: hmmmmm maybe :D

Ren was the odd man out tonight. But he knew lots of other people around the city. If he was going to Shibuya, he could check in with Iwai since his shop was a close walk. Then maybe figure out something after that, there was always a slow evening around Leblanc, too. Visit the clinic and see how Doctor Takemi was, and then help Sojiro close up. Maybe hit the public bath.

“Is that him?”

“He’s got that poofy hair goin’ on.”

“So it must be him?”

“Probably.”

Ren looked up from his phone. Two men in black suits were approaching him. One man was bald with circular sunglasses. The other man had spiky hair and a gelled goatee, his sunglasses were triangular on the sides.

“Hey, kid. You Amamiya?” said Triangles.

“Who wants to know?” said Ren, his guard going up. These guys looked like goons. Goons were always easy to spot. But goons for who?

“We want to know,” said Circles.

“No, I’m not,” said Ren.

“Oh, well do you know an Amamiya? He’s about your age and goes to your school,” said Circles.

“Moron! This is Amamiya! He’s lying,” said Triangles.

“What?” said Circles. He looked somewhat baffled by the concept.

Triangles ignored him. He put his hands on his hips and stood in front of Ren. “I know yer Amamiya. Yer coming with us.”

Ren’s jaw set. His body relaxed, his weight settling to the balls of his feet. “Say’s who?”

“Boss Otohime,” said Circles.

===

==J: whats up, Haru?  
==N: Hey! Is something happening?  
==J: Nothing. Wanna hang out?  
==N: if you can get to Fukuoka, sure. hehe.   
==J: ???  
==N: had to fly out for a meeting. I’ll be back tomorrow.   
==J: kk safe trip. Bring us cool southern snacks.  
==N: hmmmmm maybe :D

Okumura Haru put her phone back in her small purse. It was too bad she was out of Tokyo. The text from Ren reminded her that they had not spent much time just the two of them, in a long time- not since Shido’s palace. Ren’s perspective on work interactions was so useful, and his insight was something she would like more of. Not his business sense. Ren was kind of hopeless at that. But he was a natural genius at interpersonal things, and that’s what Haru wanted to get better at. And to get some juicy gossip about his ongoing romance with Makoto. Haru believed that love was a little different for everyone, but it was obvious that Ren and Makoto were in the middle of it.

While Haru felt… in the middle of nowhere. She gazed upon the reflection of her own face in the golden door of the hotel’s elevator. No one standing beside her. 

Haru sighed. It was an early end to the workday, so her entourage of employees were now on their own time, socializing. As the CEO, Haru was cut off from such familiarity. It just wasn’t done. The hotel’s elevator opened. She would return to her suite and browse the internet on her laptop. Maybe watch TV. And look forward to returning to Tokyo and her friends tomorrow afternoon.

She entered the elevator, and so did a young man. It was the personal assistant to one of Haru’s board members. A sleek, trim person with a rather gorgeous smile. They exchanged greetings, the young man looking rather sheepish.

“Sorry to barge in, Ms. CEO Okumura. I saw the doors closing and I went for it. I didn’t know you were inside.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. I don’t need an elevator just to myself. Mr.-?”

“Shibata. Shibata Akira. A real pleasure to meet you, Ms. CEO Okumura.”

“Oh, please, don’t be so formal. The workday is over. Please, just treat me like any other young woman. Not your CEO.”

The young man eyed her with surprise. “Truly?”

“Of course.”

“Then- let me take you to dinner tonight!”

“Wh- What!?” 

Haru’s gut felt dense with indignation and anxiety. Just like that? She offers to take her mask off and the man immediately asks her on a date, his own CEO!? As if once stripped of her title, Haru was a woman who would say yes to a date with absolutely zero lead in conversation or ice breaking! What was she to this man? The letters ‘C.E.O.’ with breasts!? Take the former away and ask the latter on a quick fling? Had he no concept of reality?

Haru felt herself blush, felt a squirming nervousness creep over her mind. What should she do? This was wrong behavior. She needed to say something. She was the leader of this man’s company, yet she felt totally off balance now. But- He would say something, wouldn’t he? Ryuji wouldn’t take this kind of- of- shit! 

The idea of Ryuji and what he would do suddenly opened a faucet of confidence in Haru’s mind. That right! I have the right to feel indignant! I can be angry! It’s not my fault I feel this way, it’s this man’s fault! 

Haru’s eyes narrowed on Shibata. A vein started pumping on her forehead. “You have some nerve!”

The man’s face went very pale, very quickly. “I apologize, Ms. CEO Okumura! It’s just- you said-”

Seeing the man rapidly retreat filled Haru with satisfaction, but it only stoked the flames of what was now becoming a rage. “I know what I said!” Haru glanced at the elevator floor indicator. She was on the 10th floor, he had selected the 8th. They were passing the 5th floor now. Haru hit number 6. The elevator stopped. The door opened.

“Get out!” said Haru, her voice heavy with offense. “Get out and I might forget about this by tomorrow!”

The young man practically ran from the elevator. Haru jammed on the close-door button, her jaw set and tight. It finally closed and she resumed a solitary ascent. She fought to calm her breathing. She really hadn’t needed to get that angry. She just- got angry more often recently. It wasn’t like her. 

But the anger dissipated when she reached her suite. She entered the dark room and the lights turned on, revealing a luxurious apartment-like hotel room that was all hers. All hers. Alone. 

The hand holding the room key fell limply to her side and she half-heartedly walked into the center of the living room. The curtains were open, revealing the lighted buildings of downtown Fukuoka, and again Haru’s lonely reflection. 

She stared at her own sad face. 

What you looking sad for? You scared the shit out of that sleaze! That was awesome, Haru!

Or at least, that’s what Haru imagined Ryuji would say if he were here. It made her reflection smile a little. Then she thought about an old woman named Otohime and a certain recipe for fermented carp. She recalled the old woman’s words in her mind, still trusting to the truth of them. Her reflection gained a look of determination. She took out her phone and called Mr. Takakura, her second in command. He was currently looking over things in Tokyo while Haru and the board were in Fukuoka.

“Good Evening, Ms. Okumura.”

“Good evening. I want to set up a team-building outing this week. For the administrative assistants of the board of directors.”

“Team-building for the administrative assistants?”

“Yes. Thursday, I think, would be best. That's enough time to break from this trip, and people would resent it on Friday. And make it someplace physical. Like… oh! A trampoline park! That would be perfect.“

“Trampoline…? Yes… of course.”

“And make sure Shibata Akira is there.”

“Yes, Ms. Okumura.”

“And I’ll have a guest.”

“Yes, Ms. Okumura.”

“Thank you, goodnight.”

Haru started up a text. Then her fingers paused over the keys. Otohime’s voice rolled through her mind:

A carp wants to be wanted, but he doesn’t want to be eaten. Luckily, they are not very observant. Use that to your advantage.

==N: Ryuji, my company is doing a teambuilding day at a trampoline park. Are you free? I want you to come, too. 

Haru bit her slip slightly. That last part should get his attention, and make him suspicious.

==S: yea im free. It sounds cool!

That was easier than Haru thought. But then her phone informed her Ryuji was still typing.

===S: but why me?

Because I like you, dummy! Haru sighed. Did Makoto have this sort of problem before she started dating Ren? But that didn’t matter. Ren was a different kind of fish. Haru just needed to stick to the recipe that applied to Ryuji. 

==N: I want someone who can really show off on the trampolines so my people can see what’s possible. You’re the most athletic person I know. I need you.

==S: hell yeah! I’ll blow their friggen minds, Haru. Just wait and see!

Haru smiled in victory and her heart leaped in her chest. 

The bait was taken. Soon the carp would be hooked. And Haru was beginning to realize that she was hungry.


	3. Chapter 3

Ren sat in the backseat while Circles drove and Triangles looked idly out the window. Progress was slow, Tokyo traffic being what it was. Ren was unable to make conversation with the goons, as Circles seemed to not hear him and Triangles only told him to shut up. He didn’t feel any particular threat from the two men, and if they worked for Otohime, then they were technically allies. However, Otohime was a Yakuza boss from Matsuzaki, a small, coastal town three hours south of Tokyo- the town under the Mountain Top. So, Ren spent the ride wondering why Otohime was here and why she wanted to see him. She had his phone number, after all.

But she was an old fashioned woman who liked to do things herself. She ran her own restaurant, without staff, despite being somewhere over 80 years of age. And despite leading a gang with an unknown number of goons. If Ren were to judge seniors, he would assume that most of Otohime froze in time when she was 60 or so, but he knew for a fact that the woman had been a small child during the War long ago. So 80+ she had to be. Until recently, she’d also been the lead in smuggling drugs and selling them to finance Masayoshi Shido’s political ambitions. Then, the Phantom Thieves changed her heart in their first successful post-Metaverse mission.

Well, mostly successful. In an unprecedented result, Otohime refused to turn herself into the police because she felt she could accomplish more atonement as a yakuza boss than as an old woman waiting out her final days in a cell somewhere. Otohime had gone on to provide the Phantom Thieves some key, if peripheral, aid in their final battle with Shido’s corrupt power base and Akechi Goro. But they’d not heard from her since.

What was she doing in Tokyo? Ren searched his mind. Then he remembered the conversation with Otohime after they’d changed her heart. She said something about Kaneshiro. That she knew him. That she’d wanted to kill the man herself. Ah! And that after the Phantom Thieves took down Kaneshiro, she was able to move in and take some of his old territory in Shibuya. So that would explain why Circles and Triangles might be here, but not Otohime herself. Or why she wanted to see Ren.

They arrived at a near point to Shibuya Square, or at least as close as feasibly possible with a private passenger car. Triangles turned to Ren in the back seat. His face bored.

“Come on, kid. Follow me.”

Ren got out. Circles drove off as traffic allowed, and Triangles put his hand on Ren’s shoulder to lead him forward. Ren shrugged it off.

“I’m cooperating. Don’t touch me.”

Triangles bared his teeth. “Or what, kid?”

“We play a fun game called: ‘I yell ‘pedophile’ over and over.’ Wanna play a few rounds?”

Triangles grimaced, looking around at the hundreds of pedestrians around them, not including a few uniformed policemen. “What the fuck kind of kid are you?” But his hands stayed away from Ren. “Just walk in front of me then. We’re going to the bookstore on the central street.”

Ren was surprised. No threat to break his jaw. No threat to hurt his friends. No counterplay whatsoever. Not exactly the most intimidating goon he’d ever faced. And Circles seemed a slice of fish short of a nigiri, too. If Otohime had quality goons working for her, these assuredly were not them. These were almost cartoon characters.

Otohime herself was a formidable mind, of that Ren did not doubt. What was she playing at? He supposed he would be finding out for himself soon enough. The familiar buildings of the central street loomed above and to Ren’s right side. Off to the left, the central square of Shibuya station. Ren could see a gathering of people around the little green trolly car. Was someone giving a speech? How was Yoshida doing these days? He’d heard the man was becoming a powerful force in the Diet. Ren needed to reconnect with him.

Ren and Triangles turned down central street and made for the bookstore which was one of the first businesses on the left-hand side. Ren entered and noted a looming bulky man behind the front register. Benkei in a stretched-out apron. He was the horrendously buff goon of Otohime’s who seemed to be utterly unaware of ‘leg day’. The man stared at Ren with his beady eyes. Ren returned the gaze evenly. They had not got along well in Matsuzaki. And Ren was somewhat surprised the man was still alive. Otohime previously seemed unsure of the man’s loyalty after her change of heart.

“The Boss is in the back,” said Triangles. So Ren took the cue and walked through the isles of books towards the unseen back of the store. They passed a small reading area. Two men in suits sat here, apparently reading- but their eyes immediately focused on Ren. Their eyes froze, intensified, and Ren felt a slight tension grow in the air. But then it relaxed as Triangles caught up and nodded to the two non-customers. They went back to reading. Those guys were real goons. For sure. Some of the good ones.

Beyond them, down another two rows of bookshelves, sat a small desk with books arrayed over in neat stacks. It looked to be some sort of organizational and stock tracking station. And sitting behind the desk was a small, frail looking old woman reading a book titled Kokoro.

Despite Otohime’s quaint appearance, Ren agreed with Yusuke’s initial description of her: “a devious onibaba.” Before the successful change of heart a few months ago, Otohime was a yakuza boss guilty of murder, drug smuggling, and surely worse things which the Phantom Thieves never discovered. As Ren neared her, her eyes flashed up at him over the cover of the book. Her expression, previously a concentrated frown, turned into a smirk of questionable goodwill.

“Mr. Mackerel,” she said as a greeting, placing a bookmark into her novel and setting it down. “How kind of you to visit me.”

Ren frowned at her. Despite himself, he liked this woman, insofar as her personality and way of speaking. Her past actions certainly made her a villain, but they’d changed her heart, and so, there was little profit in constantly bringing up her past. Ren convinced himself that he liked the new Otohime, and the old one was two months gone.

Along that line of thought, Ren was not particularly afraid of this reformed Yakuza boss, either. With her distortion cured, Otohime was as justice-oriented as the Phantom Thieves- in theory. She was an unprecedented case.

“What brings you to Tokyo, Ms. Otohime?”

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to come up here every since you all dealt with Kaneshiro and freed up some real estate in Shibuya. And there is the enormous police presence hovering over my hometown. They are still busy with the mess atop the mountain and the burst ruins of Ito’s silver zit. Apparently, there were a lot of dead policemen up there. Police take dead police very seriously, you know.”

Ren was unsure if Otohime was trying to make that a vague threat or not. She certainly knew the dead were his fault. “They were traitors.”

“Yes, of course. Everyone knows that. But the loyal police, even with no motive for revenge, have a great deal of paperwork to handle, I understand. That keeps them in Matsuzaki. Which made me yearn for a vacation to the big city.”

Vacation? Ren doubted Otohime had ever had a vacation in her life. She was up to something. “Why did you have your men bring me here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“Why not just call me?”

“Phones are so impersonal,” said Otohime. “I miss the days when friends meet together and talk. Face to face. Measuring one another.”

“Then have one of your men call. I’ll come meet you. We are allies, after all.”

“Are we?!” snapped Otohime, her demeanor suddenly shifting aggressive. “How long do alliances last when one party owes the other three-billion yen!”

Ren’s mouth dropped open. The money case on the Mountain Top. The police confiscated it at some point in their investigation after that night. Ren did remember Otohime telling them that she would want that back- she’d only needed it gone temporarily to remove a motive for her own men to murder her as she reformed her gang.

“You look like a fish with your mouth gaping like that, Mr. Mackerel. A fish out of water. I assume that means you understand our little dilemma?”

“But-” Ren’s mind was whirling, trying to make sense of this development. “The police-”

“Took it and it’s not your fault?” finished Otohime, eyes blazing. “Is that childish excuse really what you are going to say? I thought you knew a bit more about the world, Mr. Mackerel. The money was mine. You lost it. You need to pay it back. You don’t comprehend how expensive a family is to maintain, nor how handicapped my revenue stream has become thanks to my new… ethical business philosophy.”

“It was drug money.”

“My drug money. What’s your point?”

“You don’t deserve it. It was illegally gained.”

Otohime’s face became grim. “Mr. Mackerel, you lead the Phantom Thieves and I lead a crime family. Are you seriously trying to use that sort of argument here? Legality? If the police could pick one of us to arrest, they would pick you. You make them look bad.”

Ren conceded that point. It was that exact sentiment that had put him in juvenile detention for several months after saving the entire world. Making officials look bad was more a crime than crime.

Otohime continued: “No. You can’t escape this. You owe me back, Mr. Mackerel. I intend to collect.”

There was one last desperate ploy Ren could attempt: “Or what, Ms. Otohime? You won’t kill me or my friends. You won’t hurt us. That’s not the path of redemption you are on, is it?”

Otohime laughed. “My opinion of you is sinking rapidly today, Mr. Mackerel. You have no imagination. You are correct. But also wrong. I won’t harm you or your friends physically. True. But I could certainly improve the justice of Japan by exposing you all as the notorious vigilantes you are. It would be clean. It would be legal.” Otohime put a wrinkled hand on her chin as she smiled at Ren. “It would be easy.”

Ren felt the jaws of a trap snapping on him. A trap set two months ago that was just now triggering. He still wanted to struggle against it.

“We could do the same to you.”

“Can you? I think not.”

Ren considered as frustration built inside him. They had no evidence against Otohime. She was officially an upstanding citizen. She likely had her own network of supporters. She had no Palace because the Phantom Thieves already destroyed it by changing her heart. She now claimed to be devoting her remaining years to using her yakuza power for justice. Ironically, it did make logical sense that she could turn that very desire for justice upon the Phantom Thieves themselves, who by their very nature, were also an illegal organization. Both they and Otohime’s family allied in goal, but also capable of targeting each other without compromising that shared goal.

He could kill her. He could kill her and all her men and walk out of here. But that wasn’t really an option, was it? He was as against such violent evil as Otohime now was. And Ren remembered Makoto standing menacingly over Otohime in her resident. A flash of gold in her eyes. No. No, that was not an option. It never could be an option except in defense of their own lives.

Ren sighed, defeated. “We don’t have that kind of money.”

“Obviously,” said Otohime. “But you are young. Plenty of strength in your back, yet. I think you’ll work for me as a part-timer. These boxes are too heavy for me, and my men have better things to be doing.”

“A part-time job… to pay off three billion yen?”

“At minimum wage, too.” smiled Otohime. “It should take you a few hundred years, I imagine.”

“You won’t live another ten.”

“You wound me, Mr. Mackerel. But I’m sure you’re correct. That’s the way things go. But- but-” Otohime held up a finger and smiled at him. “I might be interested in services-provided in-lieu of cash. This… changing of hearts business might be very useful to me. I might have you do that trick on someone I dislike.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Isn’t it? They just need to be someone vile, right? Like the old me?”

“Right…”

“Well, I know lots of bad people.” Otohime leaned back and lifted up her book again. “Now, go ask Benkei for your apron and your tasks for today. There is a good amount of work time between now and the dinner hour. I think there is a shipment in the back that needs to be unloaded before then.”

She waved her fingers at him in a dismissive motion, her eyes already on the text in front of her face.

===

Ann and Morgana arrived at Yusuke’s studio. The Kawanabe Foundation was relatively close to Yusuke’s high school, so it was the same subway stop. Like Ren, Ann hid Morgana in her bag on the subway and they kept conversation to a minimum. Meowing tended to draw attention.

They exited the subway and walked the short distance to the Kawanabe building, a modest repurposed office in a building where various small businesses rented suites and floors. They headed for the second floor and Yusuke opened the main suite door for them

“Excellent, you’re here! I’ve been eager to show you.” His eyes shifted to Morgana. “Oh, you are here, as well.”

“Is that a problem?” said Morgana in challenge, “This is starting to feel a little familiar, Yusuke. Like when you first requested Ann to model for you. Naked!”

“I didn’t want her to be embarrassed by others seeing her naked!”

“What about you seeing her naked!”

Ann felt anger billowing through her mind. If they didn’t stop yelling about her being naked right in front of her face, she was gonna scream.

“I’m the artist! Who else would see her-!”

Ann’s jaw clenched, but then Yusuke stopped and put a hand to his forehead.

“Nevermind. That is time long since past. Ann, you are not here to model. I wanted to show you my painting. Come, both of you. There is no helping it now.”

Ann’s blossoming anger faded. That was strangely… aware of Yusuke. To stop a thread of conversation like that. Ann felt her curiosity increase.

Yusuke ushered them through the door, down a quiet hallway, and into a small room with plastic painter’s plastic on the floor, various painting supplies, and a canvas under the cover of a large sheet. Yusuke walked to the center of the room and waited for the door to close behind Ann and Morgana.

“It came to me in a dream,” said Yusuke, dramatically holding one hand to his chest, another reaching to the sheet covering the canvas.

Ann pursed her lips. Corny. But it was Yusuke, so it was almost certainly true. But had he been sleeping, or daydreaming? Did it matter?

Morgana scratched his neck with a hind leg and yawned.

Yusuke whipped the sheet away, and Ann looked upon a painting of her own face- but it was somehow more vivid and vibrant than when she looked at her own, real face in a mirror. The large canvas was half-covered by her hair: two long, glorious pigtails of her blonde hair. Except the hair wasn’t hair. It was ripe rice plants. The grains golden blond at that moment just before harvest, stretching away from her head like strings of tiny gemstones.

Ann’s mouth opened in shock. She stepped forward without even thinking about it. She wanted a closer look at the rice hair. Each individual grain of rice was exquisitely, exquisitely detailed, and no two the same. Each was a work of art in itself. The top of painting-Ann’s head was mostly the green grasslike stuff of the rice plant. The skin of painting-Ann’s face was pale, like rice flour, but her eyes! The pale blue eyes were slightly downcast, just off from looking at the viewer, as if looking down modestly from whoever was looking at the painting. And inside the eyes was the faint reflection of a field of rice paddies, a sky of puffy clouds, and mountains, a painting within the eyes themselves of an entire reflected agricultural landscape.

Ann’s mind was struggling to come up with anything other than a sincere and amazed ‘Wow!’. The fact it was obviously her own face was secondary to the sheer… sheer… awesomeness of the work.

“Is this why we haven’t seen much of you this month, Yusuke?” Morgana finally said. Awe and something else was mixed in his voice. Something sad.

“Yes,” said Yusuke, looking directly at Ann. His grey-blue eyes gazing into hers. “Ever since I beheld this vision, I've struggled to keep it from my mind.”

She knew he wasn’t just talking about the idea for this painting. He was talking about that day they first met. Then Ann’s mind went back to the morning in the resort when she saw Yusuke’s sketchbook. Her face as a sun. She’d then watched Yusuke sleep; thinking. And the what-ifs and maybes she considered then were now resurging through her consciousness.

“What’s it called?” she finally managed to say.

“A simple name,” said Yusuke, breaking his gaze from Ann to look upon his own painting. “It is called: ‘The Rice-Hair Goddess.’”

Ann looked at Yusuke’s satisfied expression. Looked back at the painting. Looked back at Yusuke.

What if? Maybe?

Yusuke turned and caught her watching him.

“Ann, I found an excellent place for sweets. Will you go with me there? Now?” Yusuke’s face was intense. Focused. He was obviously very invested in her next words.

Ann blushed despite herself. A date?! Show her this painting and then ask her on a date? It was… aggressive. It was startling. It was… alluring. What did he have planned? Ann realized she wanted to find out. “Y- yes.”  
Yusuke’s face brightened. A full smile appearing on his usually reserved face.

Then Ann remembered Morgana, “Oh, and Morgana, do you want to come?”

“No,” said Morgana. His voice sounded funny. His eyes were averted from them. “No, just let me back outside and I’ll find my own way home.”

===

Yusuke’s mind was color-shifting steadily between cotton candy tones of blue and pink. She’d said yes. They were on their way to the kakigori shop he’d specifically scouted out over three weeks ago. The internet said that an ideal first date was something that both people enjoyed. Ann loved sweets. Everyone knew that. And while Yusuke also enjoyed eating, he knew his true passion was artistic expression. And as soon as he’d walked into the kakigori specialty shop, he knew it was the place. The perfect place for… them. Both of them.

Yusuke checked his phone. It was about the right time. Travel time should be about right. He just needed to stay focused. Yusuke kept a tight leash on his mind, trying to make sure it would not fly off to that place which made people look at him funny. This afternoon, he would stay grounded and keep his attention on what was right in front of him, not the images and paths his brain manufactured for him.

“Yusuke,” said Ann. He turned to her. She was sitting next to him on the train. He realized he was too concentrated on being concentrated and was forgetting Ann! She continued: “So where are we going?”

“A wondrous spot. It’s a specialty shop for a perfect summer sweet. They do nothing else but variations of one specific type of dessert, so we will enjoy a flight of different experiences together.”

Ann’s blue eyes went a little wide, then she looked away out her window. Yusuke’s mind shifted orange. Was he “laying it on thick” as Ryuji put it. Was he “not getting a clue” as the Beauty Thief put it? But then Ann looked back and seemed to be smiling happily. Yusuke’s color spectrum went back to blue and pink.

“Sounds exciting! I just have to watch my figure!”

Yusuke smiled confidently. “A desire I already considered with this specific sweet.”

“What do you mean?”

“The primary ingredient is water.”

“Water?” Ann looked thoughtful. “Is it a drink?”

“No. It is something that is eaten.”

“Hmmm…”

The train’s announcement came over the intercom: “Kichijoji, please. Kichijoji.”

“This is the stop,” he told her.

“Oh, its near Inokashira Park, then,” said Ann as they stood to wait for the train to come into the station.

“Indeed. Closer to the station even than that.”

“Really? I know there is a pancake house near here.”

“Pancakes are far from my mind.”

“You’re being quite mysterious, Yusuke.”

Yusuke saw that Ann was smiling. Again the internet was right. She likes the mystery of their destination. Ren’s technique of talking was effective, but it was Makoto’s example of study and preparation that was doing Yusuke the most good this afternoon.

“Yet you’ve not asked me for the answer,” Yusuke challenged back.

Ann’s eyes smiled as she said: “You have me there.” She twisted her body back and forth, a sort of semi-stationary dance, arms flailing. She did that sometimes when she was happy and excited. “The anticipation is fun!”

Ann was so brilliantly vivacious when she did that. Yusuke’s mind threatened to go into high-definition mode and drag him away to some internal vision. He resisted it. Put the memory into his internal sketchbook. Examine it later.

“I do not think this will disappoint,” he said.

They left the train and made their way to the street.

“Is it… popsicles?’

“No.”

“Ice cream? Oh, no… that’s milk.”

“Correct.”

“Correct that we’re getting ice cream!?”

“No. Correct that its made from milk.”

“Oh…”

“Here we are.” Yusuke raised a graceful arm to a sign that read: ‘Kooriya Peace.’

“Kakigori! Shaved ice! And it’s hot today! It’s perfect!” said Ann.

“And no simple beach kakigori,” said Yusuke, raising a triumphant finger, “As I said- this is an artisan that specializes in kakigori like an artist who specializes in watercolor. They accomplish feats in the medium that no amateur can rival.”

Several groups of people were waiting in the small alleyway that led towards the restaurant's entrance.

“Oh, I think we’ll have to wait,” said Ann, a slight disappointment in her voice

“I think not,” said Yusuke, and he pulled open the sliding door of the restaurant. He entered and spotted the hostess. “Yes, I have a reservation for two for this time.”

“Yes, down at the end, Mr. Kitagawa.”

===

“Yes, I have a reservation for two for this time.”

“Yes, down at the end, Mr. Kitagawa.”

Ann felt a mixture of embarrassment and pride. He has a reservation, too? Yusuke really had this planned! If felt a little silly for him to have gone to such great lengths for this moment, since they’d been friends for so long. But then again, this was different, wasn’t it? This was- this was a date! And he walked right into the busy restaurant like he was entirely in control of the agenda. And just like that, they had seats! Ann had dated. She’d been on dates. But that was just meeting up and doing something. Yusuke was making this feel like an event! And just for her! It felt… amazing, actually.

Yusuke’s trim back moved out of the way and into the restaurant, finally allowing Ann inside the dim interior. It was a tiny shop, more like a bar than a restaurant. A line of young ladies were already perched on stools, all of them eating wondrous snowballs of ice and toppings. Ann stared at each delicious-looking item as they passed. She didn’t know exactly what they were, but she wanted them all.

The young women all glanced at Yusuke as he passed, their expressions brightening. Then their eyes flicked to Ann as she followed, and their expressions soured. Ann kept her face neutral, but a surge of pleasure swirled through her mind:

That’s right ladies, he brought me here, not you. I’m the one he wants. Not you.

The hostess followed them down the line on her side of the bar, and once they were seated on the far two stools, indicated on the wall the current menu items. Ann already knew what she wanted. She saw it on the way down, a red and white ice, with a topping of some sort of cream and raspberries on top.

“Yusuke, let’s share them, then we can try several without getting too full.”

“An excellent notion. Which one-”

Ann leaned toward the hostess. “We’ll have the Raspberry Cream, please.”

“Of course,” said the hostess with a small bow.

Yessss! Yes! Yes! This was gonna be sooo good! She looked at Yusuke. He was watching her intently, curiously, but slightly downcast- it was in the edges of his eyes, his mouth. Ann became concerned. What was he thinking? Was he offended that she ordered so fast?

“Sorry, Yusuke. Did you want something different?”

“No! No. I am happy you saw something you desired. I was simply wondering if-...”

“If what?”

“If you were excited or-”

“Or what?”

“Or… rushing…”

Rushing! As if she wanted this to be over? She hadn’t even eaten a single bite yet! Ann fully intended to eat at least half this Raspberry Cream thing, and probably half of two more varieties. Why would he think she was rushing to get away…

Oh! He- he can’t tell! Of course! He can’t read me.

Yusuke was extremely talented in some things, but whatever talent people used to understand other human beings, Yusuke didn’t have much of that. But come to think of it. Ann had just been wrong, too. She’d misjudged Yusuke’s anxiety for offense. Normally, Ann could pick up on people’s emotions, but Yusuke was different. His face was more subtle. His voice always measured. He didn’t give off many signals, and those he did, could potentially mean a variety of things. Yusuke was a bit of a puzzle to her. And apparently, she was to him, too.

That was interesting. That could be kind of fun.

“I am rushing...,” she said, just to test her own theory. She watched Yusuke’s eyes flicker down just slightly. That was it! That was a disappointment. Or distress. Or a mix of those. That was the only tell he gave away. She would file that away in a new dictionary of Yusuke’s emotional tells.

“...because I can’t wait to try this kakigori, Yusuke! This place is amazing. I’m so happy you brought me here!”

Yusuke’s eyes opened wide in surprise for a brief moment, then they closed over a satisfied, close-mouthed smile. Ann knew this expression well enough. It was a little cruel to toy with him like this, but if… whatever this might be was to go anywhere, she needed to build her Yusuke dictionary fast. And if her efforts trained Yusuke to start doubting the negative and assuming her positive reaction, it might help a lot.

“Excellent,” said Yusuke. “And I’m informed that this shop employs a particular technique with their shaved ice. A real example of artisanal craftsmanship.” He indicated the hostess.

Ann turned to watch the woman shaving a block of ice, carefully arranging the shavings in a way that didn’t compact them, and lightly, lightly shaping the mass so it didn’t get too dense.

“But to what purpose,” wondered Yusuke.

Ann turned her mind to the technique. Then she remembered snowball fights back when she was really young in Finland. If you wanted to throw a snowball, you needed to pack it hard so it was tight, because it made it more solid.

Ann turned to Yusuke. “I bet it’s because they want it fluffy. If they pack it down, it becomes hard.”

“Ah, I see. A preservation of texture. I am eager to sample the result.”

Ann turned back to the hostess and saw her carefully layer some sort of red fluid over the ice. Her mouth started watering as the acrid scent of raspberry wafted over to her nose. “Me too.”

After a dollop of thick whipped cream, fresh fruits, and some sort of powder- the mound of red and white snow was placed between them both.

It was so pretty! The white of the cream matched the white of the ice which remained untouched by the red syrup. And the ice colored by the syrup matched the red berries on the very top. She took up her spoon and eagerly plunged it into the side of the kakigori, making sure to get ice of both colors and the cream. Simultaneously, Yusuke plunged his own spoon into the other side and did the same.

Ann looked at Yusuke, he was looking at her as well. They shared a smile, then both their eyes returned to their respective spoons and they took the bite.

A soft, flaky snow texture hit the top of Ann’s mouth as a burst of sweet raspberry rolled over her pallet. Then, just before that moment when the acid of the berry would be just a little too much, the whipped cream hit and mellowed it down, and raspberry-flavored cream rolled with the ice in her mouth, enhancing and extending the cold, milky texture.

“Sooo delicious,” Ann finally said. She looked at Yusuke. He was moving his bite around in his mouth while staring at the shaved ice with wonder.

“Exquisite. It is an experience of both flavor and feel.”

===

After a dollop of thick whipped cream, fresh raspberries, and some sort of powder- the mound of red and white snow was placed between them both.

Yusuke was impressed. The kakigori was a brilliant study of color. The combination of white ice and off-white cream tones created a pleasing visual base, and this was enhanced by the vibrancy of the raspberry, which came in two varieties, the corruptive and blending red of the syrup, and the pure and isolated red of the raspberry fruits on top. But would this playful presentation translate to flavor? The look of these confections was what drew Yusuke here, but it would be the flavor that would make it a success for Ann.

He picked up his spoon and plunged it into the side of the shaved ice. Simultaneously, Ann plunged her own spoon into the other side.

Yusuke looked at Ann, she was looking at him as well. They shared a smile, then both their eyes returned to their respective spoons and they took the bite.

The light flavor of the white and deep flavor of the red mixed into a pleasantly sharp, yet not too sharp, sensation over Yusuke’s tongue. Then the milky sweetness of the cream ran rampant over that, changing the dynamics of the flavor, texture, and temperature. It was a stunning experience quite unlike any other food item he’d eaten- even other shaved ices. It was a masterpiece and all other everyday kakigori were simply good sketches.

“Sooo delicious,” Ann finally said as Yusuke gazed upon the pile of flavored snow.

“Exquisite. It is an experience of both flavor and feel,” Yusuke looked up at Ann who was smiling widely.

“And we get more bites, lots more bites!” she said, eyes closed and happily smiling.

“Indeed. And other flavors yet to venture!”


	4. Chapter 4

After a total of four different shaved ices, Ann and Yusuke staggered back into the late afternoon light. They were both heavy with water, but light with warmth for one another. This was fun! Ann didn’t want this date to end already.

“Want to walk a few laps around the park, Yusuke? We can work some of this water off.”

Yusuke’s face brightened, his eyes closed, and a warm smile crossed his face. “Yes. I would enjoy that greatly.”

So they set off, close to each other, but not holding hands. Still cautiously giving each other space. Four shared desserts did not open the door to public physical intimacy, after all.

“How long have you known about that place, Yusuke?”

“Three weeks.”

“Wow, you planned this for a while.”

Yusuke’s mouth went thin. He looked at her sidelong. What was that? Ann wondered. Trepidation?

“Yes. Was that wrong? Too much, perhaps?” said Yusuke.

Anxiety. Self-doubt. That Ann knew well enough. “It was perfect, Yusuke.”

He smiled again. That made Ann warm inside, too. “Thank you again. I hope the bill was not too high. It seemed a trendy place.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Ann looked at Yusuke. He was smiling to himself quietly and looking in front of him. Speaking of the bill, how did Yusuke have so much money? He usually struggled with money the most of any of the Phantom Thieves. Starving artist and all.

“Do you have a part-time job you are hiding from us?”

Yusuke’s eyes opened wider in surprise. “What? Why? Oh! The bill. No, one of my paintings was sold to a person of taste.”

“What! Really! Congratulations!”

“Thank you.”

It was rude to ask, but Ann was now burning with curiosity. “How much did it sell for?”

If Yusuke was embarrassed, he didn’t show it: “One-hundred, thousand yen!”

“What! That- that’s amazing, Yusuke!”

“Yes. I’ve never had so much money before in my life. I didn’t know what to do with it, and then I had the idea for this… afternoon.”

Ann felt butterflies travel through her stomach. “You made one-hundred, thousand yen and the first thing you thought to do was take me somewhere you thought I would enjoy?”

Yusuke blinked. He looked at Ann with surprise. Then looked away, slightly embarrassed. “That is accurate. Was that too much?”

“No! No- it’s… it’s something, Yusuke.”

Yusuke looked at her with a curious expression. Ann realized he was silently asking her what she meant.

Ann didn’t exactly know what she meant either. She looked around frantically, seeking a possible change of topic. Across a small grassy clearing of the park, she spied a woman wearing a big black coat. It was almost like a tarp. What was that woman thinking? Fashion disaster!

“Look at the woman’s coat, Yusuke.”

“That’s a nun.”

Ann did a double-take. Was it a nun? No. It was a woman in a tarp-like coat. Then Ann laughed, realizing that was the joke. So, Yusuke did have a sense of humor. It was just super dry. This walk was going to be fun.

===

Ren offered his bookseller’s apron back to Benkei. The muscle-bound man still stood vigil behind the register near the bookstore door. It was apparently Otohime’s base of operations in Shibuya. Just like her restaurant, she seemed to favor hiding in plain sight. Who would suspect an old bookshop woman of being a yakuza boss? Nobody.

Benkei’s beefy body stood out a bit more, but Ren supposed he could pass for an ignoramus employed by the welcoming nature of the owner. As if hearing Ren’s thoughts, Benkei angrily snatched the apron away. Ren wondered if the man remembered that stabbing incident. He gazed evenly into Benkei’s sizzling, beady eyes. Yeah… he probably did.

“Boss wants you back on Wednesday.”

“Fine.”

She was giving him tomorrow off? That was unexpected. He’d thought for sure he would be saying goodbye to every afternoon for the foreseeable future. Perhaps Otohime didn’t want him growing resentful. No. She wanted him pliable. She wanted the Phantom Thieves as a sort of hit squad, probably intending to unleash Ren and his friends upon some other member of underworld society.

Ren walked back out on the central street and turned for the station. He’d had enough of Shibuya today. A medicinal bath across the street from Leblanc sounded like just the thing. The team would need to hear about Otohime and her plans- it impacted them all, but there didn’t seem any cause to immediately worry them with a text message. They could meet tomorrow after school and decide what to do about the old woman. He would call a meeting.

He might as well send the text now, but as he reached for his phone, it buzzed. He had a text from Sojiro. A rare event.

==Boss:: Futaba isn’t answering her phone. She said she was going to Akihabara again, but that was a long time ago.  
==J: OK, I’ll go look for her.  
==Boss: Thanks, that eases my mind. I’ll let you know if she shows up here.

So much for a relaxing evening. Digging Futaba out of Electric City was getting more and more difficult. She was more comfortable moving about the city on her own, and she was beginning to rebel against Sojiro’s management. And to some degree, Ren’s. In short, she was blooming into a full-blown teenage girl, a bundle of hormonal force that sometimes baffled them both. Maybe one of the female Phantom Thieves was better suited to this. Ann would probably be best. Or Haru. But not Makoto. She was more than willing, but complex emotional situations were not her area of expertise.

But both Ann and Yusuke were phone silent after apparently meeting this afternoon. Haru was on the far side of the nation. And Makoto was devoting time to her sister. Ren was on his own. He made his way to the train to Akihabara and hoped Futaba would be in a reasonable state of mind. She could become a bit… manic when overstimulated.

He entered the car and found it mostly empty. A discarded shukanshi newspaper was on an available seat. Ren glanced at the headline: “Flying Demons with Giant Dicks Infest Subway Tunnels!”. He cast it aside. Those tabloids were rubbish pulp. Ren settled into his seat with a sigh. His hand was aching from a rather nasty cardboard papercut he’d received opening boxes in the back of Otohime’s bookstore. And his back was a bit stiff from the unloading of the box truck. It had been two months since he’d done anything strenuous. Maybe it was time to take up working out with Ryuji again.

But would he have time? With Otohime breathing down their collective necks, the Phantom Thieves were surely going to have a busy summer. But maybe she was a blessing in disguise. For all her bluster, Ren didn’t think she really wanted to expose them. She would, if Ren discounted her. Of that, he was sure. But if he played ball, so would she. And in that sense, she might be the perfect source of the next target for the Phantom Thieves. Who better to target than someone even Otohime thought was vile?

The train started to move. He knew from experience he had about 40 minutes before arriving in Akihabara. He was a bit drained. His eyelids a little heavy. He set a 30-minute alarm on his phone and leaned his head back against the window. He watched the dark tunnel pass outside the window, allowing the brief flashes of lights in the tunnel lull him into sleep. Periodically, a gap in the tunnel would briefly reveal the opposite track, it was empty at the moment, dimly illuminated tracks sitting lonely in the earth, awaiting the imminent arrival of a passing train. Then it was gone and it was tunnel wall and lights again.

Ren closed his eyes. Drifting into a thoughtless, refreshing doze. Tunnel lights flickering across his face. Another gap in the wall. Another train was streaking by on the other side, dully illuminated by dim purple light, and the windows of all the cars glowed a menacing red. Then it was gone and it was normal tunnel wall and normal tunnel lights again. Ren dozed on, oblivious.

===

Akihabara at night was equally as gaudy as Shinjuku, but unlike the red-light district, Akihabara operated mostly on normal work hours. As Ren walked through the main street, the various vendors and merchants were beginning to shutter for the evening. The restaurants would probably remain open an hour or two more, as would the arcades. All of those more or less closing when the final trains of the day were scheduled to depart.

Ren expected to find Futaba in the latter: an arcade. The unique gaming experiences of Tokyo’s arcades were a driving force in the young woman’s exploration of the city. It seemed every month there was some new machine, featuring some innovative control scheme, and it could only be found in a few select places in the city. A niche following of gaming connoisseurs hunted them down, and Ren was fairly confident that Futaba was becoming involved with that social group. It was an excellent sign of Futaba’s final stages of resocialization.

Instead of entering every gaming place he passed, Ren let his feet find their own way. Inevitably, he found himself outside the Gigolo arcade. It was a relatively modest establishment for Akihabra, but it was a favorite amongst “pro” gamers. The way the staff oriented their machines allowed people to take a sort of center stage when playing the big game of the year. The “pros” had an audience for their skills. And non-pro gamers came to be in the audience. It was a clever system for business, if not for comfortable foot traffic within.

The place was packed. Ren entered. The attention of most of the patrons appeared to be the Gun About! machine. It was an older game, by arcade standards (over two years old), but apparently, the game company’s devotion to updates and a healthy competitive player base was giving the game a long shelf life.

Ren was a bit taller than the average Japanese man and much taller than the average woman, so he could more or less see over the small crowd. Two gamers were focused on the gun game’s screen, whipping their light-guns here and there in the intensity of their play. The relatively taller player was unmistakably Futaba- her ever-present headphones tucked around her neck, her vibrant orange hair billowing as her thin frame moved. The other gamer was even shorter, even thinner, and notably younger: Oda Shinya, the “King”, an elementary- no, a middle school student now, with ferocious gaming talent.

The crowd cheered. Futaba was hopping gleefully. A scoreboard at the top of the machine changed: Alibaba: 4 - King: 5. Ren realized they were playing against each other in “six-shooter-show-down” mode. It was how Shinya had trained Ren (“It’s the most money efficient mode,” Shinya claimed.) The challenge was first to six wins, but the winner had to have a lead of two. Shinya used to let Ren win matches on purpose to extend their playing time, but against Futaba, the boy was frowning seriously. He twisted his “Get Smoked” ballcap to be full on backwards instead of to the side. He was getting serious. If Ren had to guess, he would think Shinya especially wanted to end this now, because he would get in trouble with his mother if he stayed late by allowing Futaba to push the match back within one game.

A new match started. Then moments later, it ended. Winner: King. Futaba threw up her arms, froze, and sank to her knees, arms still in the air. Shinya turned his ballcap back to its usual sideways configuration. Murmurs of appreciation rolled through the audience.

“Wow, King is a beast when he wants to be.”

“It was like he knew what she was going to do.”

“He set a cool trap.”

“She was giving him a run for his money, though! She’s amazing!”

The crowd began to disperse as Futaba rose back to her feet. She and Shinya exchanged small bows of respect. Shinya never gave Ren one of those. Futaba must have really impressed him with her gaming skill.

They both turned to Ren as he approached.

“Ren?”

“Mr. Amamiya.”

They looked at one another.

“You know him?!”  
“You know him?!’

They stared with surprise at one another.

“That looked like an intense match,” said Ren.

Shinya looked at Ren and then gave a side-long at Futaba. “She’s the best I’ve ever faced. Non-cheater, anyway.”

“This kid is super-high level, Ren,” said Futaba.

“I know. He’s the one that taught me gun techniques.”

“Ohhh…”

Shinya’s eyes traveled between Ren and Futaba. “Is she a member of- you know? Your group?”

Ren kept his face carefully composed, but before he could figure out an answer:

Futaba said: “He knows about us?”

“Oh, wow! She is! I played against a real-” Then Shinya’s mouth closed with a click. The kid was smart. Ren was thankful for that.

“I think it would be accurate to say I’m a friend of her family,” Ren offered.

Futaba gave him a quizzical look, but didn’t disagree. She turned back to Shinya. “How did you beat me so fast?”

“I learned that as soon as I used a move on you, you would be able to use it against me. So anything I used would become your weapon. You’re like a vampire or something, seriously.”

That would be Futaba’s eidetic memory at work.

Shinya continued: “So I purposefully taught you a move, then set myself up so you would use that move on me. That way I knew exactly what you were going to do.”

“Wha- wha! That’s awesome!” said Futaba.

It was. Shinya used Futaba’s own memory advantage against her. And in the heat of the moment. That was impressive tactical thinking, especially from someone so young. Shinya’s family name: Oda… could he be some sort of real descendent of-...? Ah. Who could know?

Shinya looked at his phone. “Sorry, but I need to get home or my mom is going to get mad.”

Futaba put her hands on her hips. “I want a rematch!”

“Sure. Anytime. See ya!”

They separated, Shinya apparently not heading for the same subway terminal, if he was heading to one at all. Futaba and Ren walked together. The smiling faces of countless anime characters all around them on the buildings. It was like they were inside the pages of a weekly manga collection.

“Is this where you ran off to after school?”

Futaba shook her head. She was still smiling in satisfaction from earlier. “Not exactly. I saw on reddit that there was a new rhythm game in another arcade. One that used a sort of VR baton. But it was too easy, so I got bored. Then I remembered you talking about Shinya and I looked for Gigilo and he was there.”

“What do you think?”

“He’s amazing. I wish he wasn’t so young.”

“Why?”

“Because he is going to be super hot when he is older, but I’ll be older, too. Too old for him, maybe.”

The romance thing again. Ren’s mind went back to before he secured his relationship with Makoto. He’d become very- very close to several older women. Not romantic. But on the edge. And Ren knew if he’d taken another step, his romantic life would have been much different.

“Older women have an appeal,” he said, giving Futaba a side-long smirk.

“Makoto is only a year older!”

Oh. Well, it was best that she thought it was Makoto who Ren was talking about anyway…

“But Ren, how do I know if I like boys or if I like girls?”

That hadn't been what Ren meant either. But then he realized the ramification of the question. Ren’s legs stopped moving. His mind rebooted itself as it tried to analyze that question. Futaba also stopped and looked at him eagerly. She obviously wanted an answer. How indeed? It was not a question Ren had ever considered. He liked women. It just… happened that way. He’d never really had to think about it. But perhaps that’s not how everyone was. This was new cognitive territory. He needed time to think. To calculate. He needed more information.

“If you like boys or if you like girls?” he mirrored back at Futaba.

“Yeah,” she blushed heavily and looked away, “Like… when I look at future-Shinya or current-Yusuke- I kind of think I’d like to date a boy like them. Not them, I mean, but like them, you know? But then when I look at Ann, it’s the same thing. I kind of think I’d like to date a girl like her.”

Ren realized that this wasn’t as complicated as it seemed. What did gender matter? “Maybe you don’t have to choose.”

“What do you mean?’

“Remember what I said about ‘clicking?’ And talking to people, and getting involved in their lives?”

‘Yeah.”

“Just keep trying that, with everyone. Boy or girl. And when you find that someone, you’ll know your answer.”

“But that means I’m in the exact same spot right now. So, it doesn’t matter that I don’t know for sure?”

“I don’t think so, Futaba. It’s not like some setting you select when you create your avatar. And in the end, you pick the person you want to be with, and if it’s right, whether they are a boy or a girl might not matter to you at all.”

Futaba considered that, her eyes off and to the right as they neared the subway station.

“So I could have one of each?”

“You mean like date two different people at the same time?”

“Yeah!”

“No. That’s how you hurt people. You can’t do that.”

“Oh.”

===

Ann returned to her lonely apartment, her heart still warm from the evening with Yusuke. For the first time in a long time, she cheerfully hummed to herself as she locked the door behind her. Then she went about turning on the lights in all the rooms.

Ever since her parents left her here in Japan, Ann would always turn on all the lights at night. It made her feel less alone. Less alone while her mother and father lived their lives in some other country without her. Without the burden of her. Without the child they didn’t plan for and apparently didn’t want. Just raise her till she could take care of herself, more or less, and then flee Japan forever. Send some money every two weeks. Like Ann was just another utility- did you pay the bills, dear? Electricity. Sewer. Daughter. Internet. Cell phones?

Ann was over it. Or so she told herself.

But tonight! Tonight, that was far from her mind! She reviewed the conversations around all the shaved ice while she showered. She heard Yusuke say ‘That’s a nun’, again, and laughed to herself while brushing her teeth. Then she tried to chase the memories away from her mind and do some homework for tomorrow. She was moderately successful, but she wondered how Makoto and Ren could handle this kind of stuff. It seemed a little silly compared with the importance of being a Phantom Thief. But then again, Phantom Thieving didn’t exactly pay the bills. Ann knew the money from her parents would stop at some point. Some point soon. And her modeling career still wasn’t exactly firm.

Then she checked her phone. No new messages. A minor disappointment, but Yusuke wasn’t an avid texter, and any sort of conversation now would just cheapen the fun of earlier today. Ann went to bed and fell asleep. And Ann dreamed.

  
She found herself back in the shaved ice shop. But it was cast in an odd purple light. A red shaved ice was before her, like the one earlier in the day. No one else was in the shop. No customers. No staff. Just Ann. The single stool upon which she sat. And the red shaved ice in the purple room.

Ann took up the spoon and took a bite. The memory of flavor from earlier that day coursed through her mouth again, and it somehow felt like it was traveling all through her body and into her mind- running deep there, like water coursing through the tunnels of an anthill. She closed her eyes against the intensity of it.

When she opened her eyes again, the red shaved ice was gone, and in its place was Yusuke’s face. It was red and the gaping gunshot wound in his jaw pulsed with blood, gore, and broken teeth and bone. Yusuke’s eyes looked at her, wincing in pain and fear.

Ann screamed, stood from the stool. Her nose filled with the smell of dirt and mud. Leaves and grass. Sweat. Blood. The room was gone without her realizing it. She was surrounded by trees. And eight men in grey suits stood before her. Guns in hand. They raised their weapons to point at her. Fear and rage shoot through Ann’s mind.

“Hecate! Blazing Hell!” she yells.

The men burst into flame. They convulse. They scream. Scream just like they did on that day. Black smoke boils from their melting flesh as they collapse. The smoke coils up into the sky, but instead of dissipating, the eight pillars of black smoke coalesce into serpentine forms. They curve over towards Ann. Orienting on her. Two golden eyes appearing in each of the eight heads, staring at Ann intently.

Ann bolted upright in bed, tears burning her eyes, her convulsive throat painful with the tension of her distress. Lacking anyone, she curled her legs up to her chest and hugged them to herself, holding them tight against her uncontrollable sobbing.

For a long time, she cried. Alone and in the dark.

===

Ren’s eyes opened in the darkness of his attic bedroom. The familiar shadows of bare roof beams greeted him. The tinkle of the little wind chime sounded as a cool night breeze filtered in through his open window. Ren sighed deeply and was surprised by how cold it was. It was still mid-spring, but this was certainly a late frost. He didn’t feel Morgana’s warm weight, so he must not be back yet. Ren pushed himself up into a sitting position, reaching to close the window.

A dark figure in the periphery of his vision sent a lightning bolt of surprise through his body. Goosebumps broke out over his skin. The desk chair was in the center of the room, and someone was sitting in it. Watching him in the dark. Ren’s hand went for his phone, he hit the screen button and shone it in the direction of the sitting figure.

And there he sat, smiling confidently, once again in his school uniform.

“Sorry, Amamiya,” said Akechi Goro, “Did I wake you?”

“Akechi!”

“Oh my, you look surprised. But you should look scared, Amamiya. Everything is leaking out.”

Before Ren could process that statement, his phone screen went back on standby, plunging the room back into darkness. He pushed the button again, and the light came back.

The chair was empty.

He flashed the light around his room. But there was no sign of Akechi. Or anyone. Ren listened to his own heartbeat slow. Was it just a nightmare?

Then he shone his light on the empty chair again. Goosebumps prickled up and down his arms again.

No. He never left the chair in the middle of the room.

Ren was sure of that.


	5. Chapter 5

Ren took a bite of Leblanc Curry. Sojiro stood nearby, as usual. Morgana had finally returned in the early morning and was dozing in the nearby barstool. He seemed a little downcast, but maybe he was just tired. The TV was set to the usual station.

“It’s Tuesday, May 14th! And this is your morning, Tokyo!”

“News again out of Shibuya this morning, but good news this time: a large sex-trafficking ring was shut down in the early hours of this morning. National Police raided a brothel disguised as a high-rise karaoke bar and arrested a dozen criminals thought to be involved with the smuggling of young women out of Southeast-Asia. Twenty-three young women were rescued from apparent captivity- with some being as young as fifteen. SIU-Director Niijima Sae spoke with the press this morning from a conference room in the Tocho:”

“The women in question appear to have entry-point visa documents and are mainly from Vietnam, the Philippines, and Cambodia. The citizens of these nations are not permitted to utilize entry-point visas. They must secure a visa prior to their trip. We believe this discrepancy is strong evidence that someone in the Japanese government has been aiding human trafficking into our country. Thus, the SIU is taking over investigation of this incident.”

“Ms. Niijima! Ms. Niijima!”

“Yes, you.”

“Thank you. Are the rescued women victims of kidnapping?”

“Of course. What kind of question is that? Let me give you the answer to the question you should have asked: most of the women appear to have been misled into thinking they were gaining legitimate work in Japan as domestic employees, instead this criminal gang enslaved them upon arrival and forced them into prostitution. We also believe that this was but a small part of a larger operation.”

“Ms. Niijima! Ms. Niijima!”

“Yes. You.”

“Ms. Niijima! Was the raid a culmination of a police investigation?”

“Actually, the raid was a result of a tip provided by a concerned citizen of Shibuya who wishes to remain anonymous. This person also provided a significant amount of evidence against these gangsters, and after initial review, it all seems like it will hold up in court very well.”

“Ms. Niijima! Does such a thing happen often?”

“To my knowledge, it is unprecedented. But I believe I speak for everyone who seeks justice: thank you, whoever you are. Twenty-three women are free and twelve villains are behind bars. Enough questions. That’s all for now.”

Sojiro turned off the television. “Well, that’s uplifting. People freed. A tragedy they went through it in the first place, but at least it ended for them. They have the rest of their lives now, hopefully.”

Ren chewed as he considered that. The way Sojiro put it- the rescue of the women by the police was naturally a good event, but is even the rescue marred by the reality of the need for it? As if saying: ‘Yes, that’s good, but it’s a shame a rescue was needed in the first place.’ Did that cast a shadow over the good news itself? That the natural evil of people was looming over the world like a shadow and the rescue was like a brief break in the clouds, allowing some feeble light through before it is consumed again.

It was a dark thought. A pessimistic one. It had the air of futility behind it- like saying: ‘what’s the point?’ It was the allure of apathy. That calm-looking path that most of humanity seemed to want to take, right into the depths of the Holy Grail and fallen Yaldaboath.

Ren’s mind was on a dark turn. The appearance of Akechi last night, whether dream or otherwise, was obviously influencing him. His mind recalled the memory of Akechi’s head splattering open from Ren’s gunshot, a supernaturally exaggerated reaction to the tiny snub-nose revolver that Ren had salvaged in a desperate moment. Then he watched himself unload on Akechi’s limp form, the corpse jerking from the overkill shots.

Whatever that was in his room last night, it was not Akechi. Not really. Akechi was dead. Ren made sure. And he was happy in that memory.

And the fact that memory made Ren happy made him suddenly unhappy. What was he? A person who enjoyed killing? Why did this particular memory always cheer him up?

Ren looked at Sojiro. The older man was staring off into space, mulling something or other. Perhaps he was still thinking of that news story. But Ren wanted a sounding board for his doubts now, and Makoto wasn’t available. Sojiro looked at the world differently from Makoto- maybe Ren could try and draw some wisdom from him, too. An alternate perspective.

“Boss, do you think it’s a waste of time to arrest those human traffickers?”

Sojiro blinked and turned to Ren. “Uhhh…?’

“Hypothetically- if it were not illegal- wouldn’t it be better if the police just went in there and killed them all?”

Sojiro blinked, his mouth agape. “That’s a complicated question for the early morning.”

Ren remained silent, looking at Sojiro- not giving the man a route of retreat. Sojiro finally sighed and crossed his arms. He bowed his head, visibly thinking about Ren’s question.

“No. I don’t think it’s a waste of time. The justice system is a way to protect ourselves from taking hasty action. You can’t take back killing someone, and you could kill a thousand evil people deserving death, then get it wrong once, and damn yourself.”

Ren thought of Akechi. Of the dead men on the Mountain Top. Ren didn’t think he’d made a mistake yet. But Sojiro was saying it was a dangerous precedent. “So killing is always bad because it’s so final?”

Sojiro rubbed the back of his head. “Ehhh… what’s with you this morning? I don’t know. I don’t think so. I don’t think I’d ever say killing people is good, but-... I could understand situations when it must be done. Say, I had a gun and someone was standing over Futaba- or you, Ren- and was trying to hurt either of you. I’m confident I’d take the shot, and I’d keep shooting until I knew you were safe. Do you know what I mean?”

Eliminate the threat. Be sure. Ren knew exactly what Sojiro meant. “Yes. It wouldn’t be good. But it would be…wise. And necessary.”

“Wise? Yeah, I suppose so. But don’t you dare ask me whether that makes it ‘good’ or not. You’re going to give me a headache and my annoying customers aren’t even here yet. Wash your plate and get going. You’ll be late again.”

===

Ren and Futaba stood easily in the train this morning. It wasn’t nearly as crowded as yesterday. Ren’s mind was rechecking his homework list. Did he get everything done last night? Was there an afternoon class with homework he’d left to finish at lunch today? Then his phone buzzed. It was an unknown number.

==Anon: Boss Otohime asks if you liked the news this morning.

The news this morning? The arrest of the human traffickers and the rescue of the sex slaves? Was that Otohime? She was the concerned citizen of Shibuya?

==Amamiya: She was the tipster?  
==Anon is typing  
==Anon: Boss says to not ask stupid questions.  
==Anon is typing  
==Anon: And to remember that you owe money to an ally of justice. It’s money well spent.

Ren sensed that was the end of the conversation. He closed the text chain and started to delete it- then stopped himself. Wait. This was information for the Phantom Thieves as a whole. He’d been so absorbed with thoughts about the Mountain Top and of Akechi, and now homework- that the very real threat of Otohime had slipped his mind. Slipped the mind of a fucking fool. This was important and he was daydreaming about homework. The routine was lulling him to sleep. Wake up, leader. Fuck!

Ren opened a group chat.

==J: Meeting after school today. Leblanc. Urgent.

Futaba’s phone buzzed in her hand. She looked up at Ren with concern. “What’s this about?”

Morgana poked his head out of Ren’s bag. “What’s what about?”

“I called a meeting after school,” said Ren. “We all need to talk.”

“About what?” asked Futaba.

Ren really didn’t want to explain it all twice. And the point of the meetings was to have the combined instincts and intellects of the Phantom Thieves to focus on the issue at hand. Futaba, Morgana, and Ren represented only 3/8ths of what was needed to tackle something of this magnitude.

Ren shook his head at Futaba. “I’ll tell you at the meeting.”

“Lame!”

===

Ms. Chouno rapped her ruler on the edge of the chalkboard. “All right, we all read the myth last night, yes?”

Silence.

“Tired this morning, are we? Well then… Ms. Ohno!”

“Oh, no!” squeaked Ohno Sakura.

Stifled laughter.

“Please summarize the myth for the class, Ms. Ohno.”

The girl stood sheepishly. “Ummm… the god of the dead saw Demeter’s daughter and thought she was, like- hot, or whatever…”

Laughter.

“Quiet!” said Ms. Chouno. “Go on, Ms. Ohno.”

“Uhh.. and he, like- kidnapped her and married her against her will. And her mom, Demeter, was super sad, and since she is the goddess of plants and stuff, she made them all die.”

“Good so far…” said Ms. Chouno. “Thank you, Ms. Ohno.” Her eyes roved the room and tension built.

Ren felt safe. He was targeted yesterday, so he would be fine for a few days.

“Mr. Sugiyama, please continue where Ms. Ohno left off.”

“Uh- and... uh- the underguy and the daughter had kids and stuff.”

Laughter.

“Someone didn’t read the assignment, did they Mr. Sugiyama?”

“... No…”

“See me after class. Mr. Ando! I trust you read the story?”

“Yes.”

“Please correct, Mr. Sugiyama.”

“Yes. Since Demeter made all the plants die, the humans started to starve. They asked Zeus for help, and he told Hades to release Persephone. Which he did. But he also fed her underworld food, so she would have to come back. But since she didn’t eat all the fruit, the… uh.. pomegranate, but only the seed, she would only need to spend part of the year there.”

“And so, Mr. Sugiyama, for extra credit. What does the myth explain?”

“The seasons. When Persephone is home, Demeter is happy and the plants grow. When she is in the underworld, Demeter is sad and it’s winter.”

“Excellent!” said Ms. Chouno. “And so the ancient Greeks explained the actions of their world with human drama- a mother missing an absent child. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Silence.

“Well then, who wants to tackle a hard question?”

Silence.

“Why do you think eating the food in the underworld forces Persephone to spend time there?”

Silence.

Ren began to tense up. Hard questions went to top-ranking students. And Ren was the top-ranking of everyone.

“Mr. Amamiya? Care to try?”

Fuck.

Ren’s mind whirled. It was a myth. It was symbolism. Eating something was taking another thing into oneself. It became a part of you. Oh! That was it! It was like the Mountain Top! Ren and the others ate of that place, and it would forever be a part of them.

“When Persephone ate part of the fruit, a part of the underworld was inside of her. It became a part of her. It symbolizes the trauma of the kidnapping. Even if Persphone tried to forget, it was impossible. She would be forced back to that memory. The fear of it. Over and over.”

Silence.

Ms. Chouno was looking at him strangely- with… pity? “That’s… that’s not the answer I was expecting, Mr. Amamiya, but I think you are still correct.” She frowned and slapped her ruler into her palm a few times, apparently collecting herself. “Okay, so everyone, get out your worksheets and let’s grade last night’s homework…”

===

After school, the Phantom Thieves gathered in the attic of Cafe Leblanc.

“Okay, everyone. The reason I called us together is because Otohime Boton is in Tokyo with her gang.”

Surprised looks all around. Ren continued by explaining the events of yesterday- the goons, Otohime’s demands, and his suspicions of her plans. The expressions of his friends transferred from surprise to anger to thoughtfulness.

Yusuke broke the silence with a click of his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “What a troublesome woman.”

“She’s a bitch!” said Ann, scowling. And Ann didn’t swear very often, but Otohime was a tad bit racist towards Ann’s mixed bloodline, or so Haru said when telling Ren of their infiltration of Otohime’s Palace.

“For real!”

“This doesn’t seem the path of redemption she claimed to be on,” said Haru, a bit of disappointment in her voice. Ren was pretty sure Haru was a little like him- she liked the old woman, in a weird way.

Morgana, and Futaba simply looked at Ren seriously, awaiting more information. Makoto’s gaze flicked around the group and then stopped on Ren, her crimson eyes flinty. She didn’t like Otohime. Not at all. And Makoto and Ren had worked through a private disagreement on how to deal with the defiant Otohime. Ren held up the palm of his hand, quietly staying off further comment. “But I also received this text from Otohime this morning.”

Ren forwarded the conversation to everyone, and they all got out their phones. Morgana looked at Futaba’s.

“What’s this about?” said Ryuji.

“The human traffickers,” said Makoto, her voice getting lighter. Her eyes widening slightly. “She’s claiming it was her.”

“What was her?” said Ryuji

“Pay attention to the news, Ryuji!” said Morgana.

“Yeah? Do you know what they are talking about?”

“Of course!”

“Then explain it to me.”

“Uhhh… Makoto is better at that.”

“Yeah, okay, cat!”

“I’m not a cat!”

“Shut up, you guys!” said Ann. “A lot of us don’t know, so just let them explain.”

“The police raided a brothel last night,” said Makoto, “and they freed over 20 women who were basically slaves. The police were tipped off by an anonymous person. A person with evidence.”

“And Otohime was that person?” asked Haru, her voice a little hopeful.

“That’s what she seems to be claiming.”

“Is she telling the truth?” wondered Ryuji.

“She’s in that world,” said Yusuke. “Who else could it be?”

“I agree with Yusuke,” said Makoto, her voice hesitant, and then she sighed. “And Sae was impressed with the detail of the evidence, and the way it was presented. She says it’s clearly from someone who knows how the legal system works.”

“And a mafia leader would know that, for sure, and have lawyers to help,“ said Futaba. “And this sort of thing is basically what Otohime told us she was going to do: target her fellow yakuza members. The really bad ones.”

The table went quiet as people considered the situation. Ren thought it was time he could table one aspect of this conversation. “So, with the information we have, does anyone think Otohime is an enemy we need to take down?”

Ren’s eyes roved the team, most were still looking off into space, thinking. But Haru was staring directly at Ren, her face a mask of determination.

“Lots of young women are free from hell,” said Haru, her voice fierce. “You all rescued me from my fiance`, and that would have been nothing compared to what these women went through. If this was really Otohime, she did something we could never have done. I think it’s great! We should want her to do more! Rid the city of all that kind of scum!”

“Hell yeah!” said Ryuji, “I agree with that!”

“But she is also directly threatening us with exposure,” said Makoto. “If she went through with the threat- whatever dreams any of us have of our futures will be gone. With something like the Phantom Thieves on our real records… in this society? Not to mention the jail time!”

Ren knew what she meant. His own corrupted record was painstakingly cleansed, by the efforts of all his friends, with Makoto and Sae in the lead. But before that, when Ren was a delinquent, his professional outlook was bleak. There were not many good jobs that did not require a background check.

“We’ve faced threats from allies exposing us before,” said Yusuke, “such as Alibaba.”

“Hey! I wasn’t gonna really do anything, Inari!” said Futaba.

Ren saw the opportunity to lighten the mood. “And there was that snoopy student council president,” said Ren.

Makoto’s gaze slowly turned to Ren, her lips thin, her eyes half-lidded. Ren’s smile faded in the face of that icy look. That might have been a miscalculation.

But then Ryuji laughed. “Oh, yeah! Man, what a pain in the ass.”

Ann put her hand to her mouth to hide a smile.

“I get it!” said Makoto. She really didn’t like to be teased. Not about this kind of stuff. It was a clear signal that they’d gotten their free shots, but Makoto was done now. Everyone backed off.

“Anyway,” said Morgana, tail flicking back and forth in amusement. “What Otohime is doing is not too far off from what we do,” said Morgana. “Bring villains to justice.”

“It’s kind of like social change, right?” said Ryuji. “We changed Otohime, and now she’s doing good stuff, too. We did it!”

Futaba’s eyes rolled. “Yeah. Totally planned.”

“Who cares? It worked!”

The table went quiet again. So Ren said: “If you feel we should target Otohime, raise your hands.”

No hands raised. Ren looked at Makoto. Her jaw looked tight, but she closed her eyes and shook her head slightly.

“Then it’s unanimous…” said Ren. That was kind of odd. The first unanimous ‘no’ in the history of the Phantom Thieves.

“But we still need to do something about her demand,” said Makoto. “We can’t let ourselves become her hitmen.’

“We do actually need a new target,” offered Ren. All heads turned to him.

“Are you serious?” asked Makoto, “You’re considering doing what she wants?”

“Why not? We nailed Kaneshiro. We changed Otohime. That’s two mafia leaders down. If Otohime has another in mind, like maybe the head of the human traffickers, wouldn’t her help make it easier for us to take that person down?”

“And make her more powerful,” said Makoto.

“Which makes us more powerful!” said Haru.

“If people are suffering from some asshole, then there is no reason to say no just because Otohime picked the target!” said Ryuji, “Plus it will save us a lot of investigation time!”

“No,” said Yusuke, “We cannot just blindly trust Otohime to give us an adequate target.”

Makoto sighed in relief. “Thank you, Yusuke. A voice of reason.”

“We can verify what she claims,” said Futaba.

“And I can negotiate us more information before we agree,” said Ren.

“But we don’t even know for sure that this is going to happen,” said Ann.

“I think it will,” said Ren, “It’s just a matter of time.”

Haru nodded.

“Either way,” said Morgana, “We’ll need to wait for her to move. Unless another target presents itself first.”

“Should we even wait?” said Ryuji. “Let’s find someone in the meantime. I’m ready for some action, again!”

Everyone’s gazes shifted sideways. Ren knew what they were feeling. There was a lot going on in their normal lives right now. College for some. Jobs for some. School for most. Aggressively seeking a new mission so soon after the Mountain Top… two months was a lot of time, and no time at all… though Ren half agreed with Ryuji. He was also thinking a mission would do everyone some good. But that seemed a minority opinion.

“We wouldn’t want to be in the middle of something with one target and have Otohime spring hers on us,” said Ren, “And I don’t think we will have to wait long. Otohime will return to her hometown once the police investigation there ends. She won’t expect to keep tabs on us long-distance.”

“We hope,” said Makoto. It seemed she was always going to be a voice of doubt against the old woman, but Ren was confident in Otohime. Makoto was smart to doubt her, but Ren’s intuition about this kind of thing was strong. He had faith in it. She was a confidant. She would not be unreasonable.

“Shall we discuss this in more detail when Otohime chooses to reveal her target?” asked Ren.

Nods all around.

“Then next I need to tell you about something I saw last night. I don’t know if it was a dream or what…”

Ren had their attention. He explained how he saw Akechi Goro in his room, and what was said.

“The fuck?” said Ryuji. “It’s gotta just be a weird dream, dude.”

“You said you were sure he was dead?” asked Yusuke.

Ren’s internal eye watched Akechi’s head pop open again. “Positive.”

“It could have been a nightmare, Ren,” said Ann, a little quietly. “I had a weird nightmare last night, too.”

“About Akechi?” asked Ren. That would be both a relief and a scare if that were the case. A relief that Akechi was only a dream, a scare that he was in more heads than his own.

“No,” said Ann, “No Akechi. Just a nightmare. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Nightmares…” said Makoto suddenly. “I’ve heard something about nightmares, too.”

Makoto shared her visit with Takahashi, the current student council president of Shujin. She told them about the nightmares his spyring was hearing about.

“-and, I don’t know if it’s related, but he also acted a bit oddly when I told him I wanted to give him my number,” finished Makoto.

The table went silent. Lots of eyes roved to Ren, lots of smirking faces. Yusuke still seemed to be thinking, however.

“Perhaps his phone was out of memory,” said Yusuke.

“That could be it,” said Makoto.

Haru was smiling with amusement. “Maybe…”

Makoto seemed to sense something was up. Her eyes were roving the team and they were beginning to calculate.

“I think I can explain that last part later, Makoto,” said Ren

Ryuji snickered.

“-But for now, what about these nightmares? If me and Ann had some, did anyone else?”

Heads shook.

“I- I did,” said Morgana. Everyone looked at the black cat sitting upright on the table. He had his tail curled up over his paws. His ears drooping. “Not about Akechi. But it was weird. I don’t want to talk about it either.”

That made three of them, but Ren was still sure his was no nightmare. It was something else. Something else that moved the chair. And what was leaking out? And from where? Bad dreams? From… dreamland? The Metaverse was kind of like dreamland, but it was gone. That was a suspicion, and that was better than nothing right now.

“The thing that is leaking. Could it be the Metaverse? Could something be leaking out and influencing people’s dreams?”

All eyes inevitably turned to Makoto. She was frowning and thinking. Finally, she said: “I don’t know. It’s gone, isn’t it? Well, joined with our world. But we have our powers. So there is that... And everything we discovered in Matsuzaki is all based on supposition.”

“Based on what?” asked Ryuji.

“A guess.”

“Oh.”

“In Rainbow Shibuya,” said Futaba, “That Morgana said the Metaverse was joined with our world now,” said Futaba.

“And we went into a Palace inside Otohime’s head,” said Haru. “That place worked just like the old Palaces did.”

“Mostly,” said Ann, “We couldn’t take anything of that world back out, though. Like the Treasure. We had to change Otohime like Ren changed Mishima.”

“Oh, that’s true.”

“But dreams are unreal things,” said Yusuke, “and everything else we are talking about is real.”

“I don’t like the terms ‘real’ and ‘unreal’ anymore,” said Ren. “I still live with a talking cat-

“I’m not a cat!”

Ren glanced at Morgana the cat, his tail moving back and forth at the tip in an annoyed-cat fashion. He was really walking that ‘not-a-cat’ line today. Was something up with him? And come to think of it… where did Morgana sleep last night to have this nightmare he was talking about? Ren made a mental note to talk to Morgana later.

“Sorry. I still live with Morgana. And we all still have our- essentially... magical powers.”

“And you showed us how to have super strength when we want it, too,” said Ryuji. “We are basically manga characters now.”

“Lame ones,” said Futaba. “We don’t even do any work on the streets. Haven’t you guys seen One-Punch Man? We’re kinda boring compared to that.”

“That’s fine,” said Ann, “After the Mountain Top, I’d rather be boring for a while.”

“That’s cause you got to do stuff!” Futaba’s voice was growing petulant. “I just hid behind a stupid hill and chanted. You all got to kill all the bad guys.”

“Do stuff?... ” Ann’s eyes narrowed, her shoulders tensed and scrunched. ‘That’s good, you moron! You think I fucking enjoyed myself up there, Futaba?! Killing the bad guys?! Think any of us did?! Grow the fuck up!”

Futaba’s eyes were wide and her jaw fell open in shock. So did Ryuji’s. Eyes opened wide all around. Ann yelling at Futaba was a new event, as was her using the F-word, and calling anyone other than Ryuji a moron. Futaba blushed and buried her face into her knees. Ann blushed and averted her gaze, too.

This was starting to feel out of control. Ren was suddenly unsure of Ann- and Morgana, and now Futaba. They were all acting differently. The Phantom Thieves were not operating smoothly, and their meeting had nothing ahead except speculation at this point, anyway.

“Let’s table this for today,” said Ren to a quiet room. “We made the only decision I had for us, and everything else is guesswork. Keep your eyes and ears open. Maybe the nightmares are just people having nightmares. Or maybe something is going on that only we can deal with.”

Nods. More silence.

“Okay, I guess that’s it, then.”

Futaba immediately got up and went downstairs into the cafe. Sojiro said something. The front door’s bell tingled. Futaba was obviously gone.

“Ann, are you-” began Haru.

“I’m fine!” Ann was tense again. Then she let her shoulders droop. “Sorry, Haru. Maybe I’m not. And I feel bad about Futaba. It’s just what she said. But she didn’t- she didn’t see…” Ann’s eyes were tearing up. “It was the nightmare. It was about the Mountain Top. It just feels… really fresh again.”

Ren sat and watched Ann’s face. She looked tired. Stretched. The doubt and paranoia was welling up in his mind again. Was this it? Was this what he’d been waiting two months for- the psychological butcher’s bill of that battle? This was the second-worst meeting in Phantom Thieves history now, with only Morgana’s rebellion being worse. And the transformation from good to bad had been almost instantaneous. Futaba inadvertently jabbing a finger into Ann’s mental wound.

“Did you get much sleep, Ann?” asked Makoto, her voice concerned.

“No,” Ann’s eyes were watering a little more. She wiped them. “I cried for a long time, to be honest.”

“You didn’t call anyone?” asked Yusuke.

“It was late.”

“It’s never too late.,” said Yusuke, his voice intense. “Night has no meaning.”

Ann looked at him, a short chuckle emerging. “Okay, Yusuke. I know what you mean.”

“We’re all here,” said Haru. “We all went through it, too, Ann. Don’t be alone like that…”

Ann was starting to blush from the attention. “Oh-okay, I will remember next time. But I think I will go home and try and sleep. I feel really tired all of a sudden.”

“I’ll escort you,” said Yusuke.

“Okay.”

They left together. Ren watched Ann go. He wanted to talk to her, but it looks like Yusuke was interested in taking that role for now. And would Ren even know what to say when he talked to Ann? This might be another issue that was too far out of his depth. Like the Kamoshida thing. Whatever natural charisma he seemed to command had limits. Traumatic memories were something people with Ph.D.s tried to figure out- and sometimes failed. Ann’s problems probably could not be solved by a well-crafted sentence.

Ryuji watched them go. “Are they?...”

“Seems that way,” said Haru.

“I wonder…” said Ren.

Makoto’s eyes traveled between them all. “What do you all mean? They are dating?”

“Yusuke asked her on a date yesterday,” said Morgana, his voice somewhat brittle. “And she said yes.”

Ren looked at Morgana. He’d always had an obvious crush on Ann. A crush that was impossible to realize due to the reality that Morgana, despite his objections, was a cat. The Pinocchio complex. And now Morgana knew he was created as a cat, but he still dreamed of being a real boy. If he witnessed Ann move forward into romance with Yusuke, that might have triggered the return of Morgana’s self-identity issues. So that’s what happened yesterday.

“Go Yusuke,” said Haru, her eyes shifting to Ryuji.

“Yeah, the guy has guts!”

Haru sighed. Then said, “I need to go. I have some things to do for class. But I’m worried about Futaba.”

“I’ll talk to her tonight,” said Ren. “If she isn’t closed up again.”

“No. I’ll go,” said Morgana. “She talks to me. Probably because... “ he sighed. “I’m not a human.”

He jumped off the table, tail low. Ren watched him walk slowly towards the stairs. He would not likely be able to talk with either of them tonight, then. The last time Ren left Morgana to himself in an emotional crisis, the cat went rogue. Ren needed to say something. He might not be able to solve everything, but he could still try to find the words. Something for Morgana’s self-worth. Oh! That was it!

“Futaba loves you, Morgana. Just as you are.”

Morgana looked back at Ren. Then continued on his way. But his tail was a bit more lively. Haru followed after, saying goodbye. That left Ryuji and Makoto.

Ryuji and Ren chatted briefly about a new weight machine at Protein Lovers. Then Makoto placed her hand on Ren’s atop the table. Ryuji’s eyes flicked down at their hands. He blinked. Then his eyes went a bit wide and he stood up.

“Oh, Uh! Right. I gotta go, dudes. Need to… work out and stuff. See ya!”

Ren and Makoto were now alone in Ren’s room. This was the place of most of their early… study sessions. They’d studied each other. Explored. Grew more daring. An oasis where they could be teenaged fools-in-love while the chaos of the Phantom Thieves inaugural year surged around them. Now here they were again, almost a year since it all began between them. In love. But hopefully not fools.

He looked at her with an uncontrollable smile. Her eyes were twinkling a little mischievously. He rotated his hand to grasp hers in his fingers.

“That was daring,” he told her.

“I have a lot of homework tonight. But I have another hour and a half of time penciled in for this meeting.”

“Oh, I see,” he moved his face closer to hers, “So this is penciled in, then?”

“Time management is a key to success.”

Ren’s small laugh hissed through his teeth. “Too cheesy.”

“Mmm..” Makoto’s crimson eyes closed, her lips parted slightly. Ren met them with his. The warm smoothness of her lips a delight. He raised a hand to the side of her neck, rubbing his thumb over the muscles under her skin as they continued a sequence of kisses.

“Hoo boy!” said Sojiro.

Ren and Makoto jumped and turned to the stairs. Neither of them had even thought of locking the door after Ryuji left.

“Sorry, you two,” said Sojiro, his gaze averted, rubbing the back of his head. “I thought it was just Ren up here. I lost track of who all left.”

“What’s up,” was all Ren could manage to say.

“Shipment of beans just arrived. We need to bring them in, trade out the old bags, and cycle the beans in all the jars. It’s the big one. You know the drill.” He looked at Makoto. “Sorry, Ms. Niijima, but I really need your boyfriend tonight.”

Makoto was still blushing furiously. “That’s all right, Boss. I have quite a lot of homework tonight.”

“Sorry, again,” Sojiro walked back down the stairs. “The truck is waiting, Ren.”

Ren and Makoto shared a look and a sigh.

“Well… see you tomorrow,” she said and turned for the stairs.

Ren grabbed her shoulder and gently spun her around, rotating her smiling face back to him. His other hand found the small of her back and pulled her close. Their lips met again.

 

* * *

 

Earlier...

Yusuke followed Ann down the stairs from Ren’s room.  His world swirled with dark blues with a rare splash of purple. Mystery.  He’d never seen Ann yell like that before. And use such vulgar language. Like Ryuji.  Something was gravely wrong.

It was obviously the Mountain Top.  But why now? Ann’s back and bobbing pigtails gave no answers.   They came down to the cafe to find it empty of customers. Not a huge surprise.  Sojiro was smoking and watching the news. Also not a surprise. Yusuke picked up the scent on the stairs.

“I heard shouting and Futaba stormed through here,” said Sanjiro. “Did something happen?”

Ann paused. Hesitated.

“Ryuji overturned a drink,” said Yusuke. “It may have damaged one of Futaba’s devices.”

“Oh, well, there will be hell to pay if it did,” said Sojiro, “You two have a safe trip home.” 

“Thanks, Boss.”

And they were outside in the dying afternoon light.  Ann shoulders slumped in a sigh.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at Futaba.”

Perhaps not.  But Yusuke’s mind had gone back to the Mountain Top, too.  He could remember terrible pain in his jaw, he could remember warm liquid making his breathing difficult. The heavy taste of coppery blood on his palate. And he could see Ann’s stricken, ghostly white face staring at him. Staring at him with blue eyes wider than he’d ever seen.  Then he’d seen the rage. And then… flames.

“She said a foolish thing,” said Yusuke.  “And someone won’t learn unless rebuked.”

“I don’t think that’s exactly what I did.  I’ll have to apologize later.” She looked back at Yusuke. A sad sort of smile on her face. “Are you really going to escort me?”

Yusuke’s world of blues brightened slightly. “Of course.”

“You’re so old-fashioned,” said Ann as they fell instep with one another enroute to the subway station.

Was that bad? His world flashed orange.

 “Am I?” asked Yusuke. “Should I not?”

Ann sighed. “Relax, Yusuke. I meant it in a good way. I like you coming with me.”

They walked a short distance in silence. Yusuke was becoming uneasy with all the mystery blue. He wanted some information to lighten it up.  “What happened, Ann?”

She looked at him, hesitated, then her eyes became downcast and she looked at the ground as they walked. “Futaba made me see your- your injury again.”  Then she looked up at him and struggled to put a smile on her face. “But with you here, I can just look at your face and know its not true. It’s just a bad memory.  If that makes sense.”

“I see.”  

So, Ann seeing his unharmed face made her feel better? That seemed simple enough.  Yusuke walked slightly ahead of Ann and turned around, walking backward in front of her.  They gazed at each other, Ann walking forward, Yusuke walking backward. She could see his face and still see where she was going this way.

Ann’s mouth pressed into a thin line as she seemed to be fighting back some kind of emotion.

Finally, she laughed.  “This isn’t exactly what I meant, Yusuke.” 

“Oh.” He turned around and resumed walking beside Ann. He face felt hot and his world flashed neon pink.

Ann giggled and grabbed onto his right arm, leaning into him slightly and smiling up into his face.  “But I liked the idea.”

Yusuke’s neon pink mellowed into cotton candy tones.

“I feel better already,” said Ann, “I’m surprised I could laugh today, but you managed it. You seem to be able to.”

Do I?  Yusuke was on the verge of asking, but then stopped himself.  Every time he worried that he was doing something wrong, Ann revealed he was actually doing something right.  Yusuke supposed if the result is good, why question it. Whatever he was doing, Ann seemed to be responding to it.  Perhaps he could see if she would respond to the same things he did.  

“Are you still tired?” 

Ann shook her head. “No. And I wasn’t in the meeting either. I just wanted an excuse to get out of there. I didn’t want everyone looking at me like that.”

Everyone had been quite surprised, that was for sure.  But if she was not actually sleepy, then perhaps she would be interested in a special location.  Yusuke’s wanderings around Tokyo had lead him to many places of visual impact. And Ann was something of a visual person. Fashion and modeling were art forms, in their ways.

“Come with me somewhere. I think you will like it.”

She looked at him with curiosity.  “More sweets?”

“No.  Something to look at. A place that makes me lighter when I am heavy.”

“Lighter when you are heavy?  Where is it?” 

“Harajuku.”

“Oh, well I suppose I can’t say no.  That’s like my favorite part of the city, Yusuke.”

As they entered the subway station, Yusuke’s roving eye spotted a familiar face on the cover of a magazine.  It was Ann. He immediately beelined for it.  

It appeared to be a travel magazine, and it was in the racks that indicated they were free to passers-by.  Glorified advertising brochures, then, but cleverly designed like a travel magazine. Ann was on the cover, laughing, hair billowing and frozen in mid-air.  The Matsuzaki coastline behind and below her. It was the Aviary Resort balcony.  

He sensed Ann coming up behind him.  He stood aside so she could see what he’d found.

“What!” she squealed. “They actually printed these?!”  Ann snatched up the top magazine and stared at it. “I thought for sure these would never publish!”

“The resort was destroyed. What are they advertising?” asked Yusuke.

“I don’t know. Maybe publishing was just too far along, they decided to print the issue anyway,” said Ann, already leafing through the magazine.  “Or they couldn’t find anyone else to fill the spot in time.”

Meanwhile the train arrived, and Yusuke lead the way on-board.  Ann followed slowly, her eyes intent on the passing pages of the magazine.  

“Here it is. Here it is!  Oh, wow! It’s all of it!”

Yusuke looked over her shoulder. Text was tastefully bordering several photos of Ann in casual clothing around the resort.  She turned the page. 

 It was advertising the onsen.  Here, she was in a bikini and sensually stretched out on the shallow bench of a hot tub.  Yusuke’s eyes traveled the photograph’s enticing form, his mind shifting to a very passionate red. Then Ann snapped the magazine flat against her chest to hide the image.  She looked at Yusuke with a slightly angry blush.

Yusuke’s mind went orange with confusion. “Why are you mad? That was an enticing shot of your body. It’s very well done.” 

Ann blushed harder.  But then her eyes closed and she sighed.  “Yeah, and I suppose everyone in Tokyo can see it.”  She lowered the magazine and looked at the bikini shot again.  “It was my first swimsuit set, you know? I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do it, but I felt like I needed to. Professionally.”

“Any professional would regard your body as-”

“Nevermind, Yusuke!”

Yusuke’s mind had other ideas. It tugged him off into a realm of sensual images and tasteful nudes. A cliche lounging pose: Ann on a divan, like that movie of the sinking boat. Or running like a greek nymph, naked in a field.  Or, perhaps...

Meanwhile, Ann turned the page.  Yusuke’s mind was peripherally aware of his surroundings. The magazine image was the bar shot with the late Mr. Ito.  The images of Ann’s body dissolved from Yusuke’s inner eye, replaced instead with the image on Futaba’s laptop- that man’s head jerking backward from Akechi’s gunshot.

Ann closed the magazine. Her face was pale and sad again. The swirling blues of mystery returned to Yusuke’s mind, and they dulled to darker colors as he watched Ann’s troubled face.  Whatever progress he’d made cheering her up had just been lost.

 

* * *

 

“Harajuku, please. Harajuku.”   

Yusuke guided a newly subdued Ann from the subway and up onto the main street.  The sun was lower now; well hidden behind the buildings of the Harajuku district.  The sky was beginning to take the purplish cast of descending twilight. They walked down the sidewalk of a busy retail street, the world vacillating between dusk and the blazing orange glare of a setting sun on shop front windows.

The familiar shape of Tokyu Plaza Omotesando Harajuku revealed itself before them. It was a moderately sized building, for Tokyo. A multi-storied shopping mall with an interesting sharp geometric top.  Trees seemed to grow out of small balconies on the roof.

“Tokyu Plaza?” said Ann. “I’ve been here a few times. It has lots of shops I like. But what did you want to show me? A new store?”

Yusuke stepped onto the escalator into the main entrance, Ann followed, still watching him with curiosity.  “No, not a store.”

“I’m not really in the mood for mystery games, this time, Yusuke.”

They reached the top of the escalator.  “Very well. We’ve already arrived.”

Ann looked around the atrium of the mall.  “Okay…”    

“No, behind us. Here, take my phone. The camera is ready. Take my photo as we go back down the escalator.”

Ann blinked as she took the phone from Yusuke. “Oh- okay…”  Her face went a little more downcast. Perhaps she was thinking he brought her here for a stupid reason, but the moment was almost here. She would see.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Ann took the phone from Yusuke.  “Oh-okay…” 

This was why he brought her here? To take photos?  Maybe Yusuke didn’t have some plan to cheer her up, after all.  It was a self-centered thought, perhaps, but Ann had really thought he was going to pull something off for her. Something to make her feel better. But it was just Yusuke being Yusuke.. Now she thought she’d rather have declined him and just gone home like she told everyone she was going to.

“Ride on the escalator behind me,” said Yusuke, “And be ready to take my picture at the perfect moment.”

“The perfect moment?”

“It will call to you.”

“Okay, Yusuke…” 

 Right, call to me… Ann sighed.

Yusuke stepped onto the downward escalator. Ann followed.  This was a mildly famous escalator, as the walls and ceilings were made of a multitude of mirrors, all jangled at different angles. It made the escalator ride kind of like being in a giant kaleidoscope.  The customers and the street outside would reflect over and over on each other. It was kind of cool, but Ann had been here several times.

“Bend down a little, Ann.”  said Yusuke. 

Was he serious? Give me a break! She was about to object, but she noticed a tenseness to Yusuke’s face that held her back.  Fine, Yusuke. You won’t let up until I get it right, anyway.

She crouched slightly.  

“Just there! Now, wait for it!”  Yusuke struck a sort of J-Pop-Star pose. 

Ann waited. Feeling foolish. Crouching down and staring through the phone, waiting for the photo to call to her.  Then, abruptly, all the mirrors of the ceiling and walls aligned and the camera frame was filled with dozens of copies of Yusuke.  Whoa! She was so shocked, she almost forgot to take the photo in time. 

Click.

Yusuke stopped posing and stepped up towards her.  “How is it?”

Ann put the camera app into review mode.  They gazed at the photo together. It looked so cool! She wanted one. She wanted lots. 

“It’s awesome! Do me next!”

Yusuke smiled his small smile. “Of course. We just need to ride back up again.”

They spent an hour circling the escalator, posing during the magic moment and taking photos. Meanwhile, the night fell on Tokyo.  Eventually, they stopped at the top of the entrance, satiated, but watching the mirrors reflect the scattered images of people coming and going, cars passing to and fro on the street outside, their headlamps and brake lights dancing.

Ann felt warm and she’d forgotten the meeting, but the growing night made her think of her dark, lonely apartment.  She didn’t want it to be empty tonight. She didn’t want to be alone there. She looked at Yusuke, his attention on the mirrors still. Should she?

“Yusuke...”

He turned to look at her with that intense neutral gaze of his.  

“Yusuke, would you stay at my place tonight? On the couch, I mean.  It would- it would be really nice to have someone else there.” 

“Of course,” Yusuke’s eyes widened a little in surprise, but that was the extent of his reaction.  The potential connotations of Ann inviting him over for the night seemed lost upon him. That was perfect, as she wasn’t looking for anything like that.  For once, his density in that area was a boon.

“Shall we get something to eat on the way?” he asked.

Ann wanted something meaty. And salty.  Like fried chicken! “How about karaage? There is a great place near my home.”

“A worthy idea.”

They stepped onto the downward escalator for the last time.  Without thinking about it, Ann grabbed Yusuke’s arm again and leaned into him, like she’d done almost instinctively back near Cafe Leblanc today.  She didn’t know why, except that it felt good to do it. And Yusuke seemed to like it. He turned to look down at her.

“Thanks for cheering me up, Yusuke,” She told him, “This was great.”

His grey-blue eyes looked into hers. 

“We’ve seen dark things, Ann,” said Yusuke, as he looked up into the mirror kaleidoscope as they passed down through it.  “But that doesn’t diminish the beauty of this world.”

Ann gazed at Yusuke’s profile. She admired his angled chin and defined jaw, then followed his glance to look again at the kaleidoscope ceiling.  And amidst the sparkling lights of a hundred reflected cars and lamps, there were a hundred Takamaki Anns, and a Yusuke standing next to each and every one.

 

* * *

 

 

Earlier...

Morgana was not in a hurry to reach the Sakura residence.  He stalked slowly along the paths he knew. That none of the other Phantom Thieves could ever know. Unless perhaps they were turned into rats, like happened every once in awhile in the old Metaverse.  But now? No. These were his paths. Over awnings. Under decks. Through walls. And under plants. Morgana paths.  

Cat paths.

That was the sticking problem. Always the problem. Cat. Cat. Cat. I’m with the cat. Hey, cat.  Hey, is that a talking cat? 

 I’m not a cat! I’m not. 

 But I am.

Morgana recalled the terrible fear of the moment the Phantom Thieves dissolved. The moment when it seemed the Enemy had won, and humanity was turning their backs on all of them: Haru and Ann crying; Ryuji and Futaba surprised and angry; Yusuke baffled; Ren and Makoto reaching for each other with vanishing hands.  Failure. What a failure. My failure. All my failure.

And it was made worse when he’d awoken in the Velvet Room. His long-nosed creator frowning at him from behind a desk, tap-tapping his fingers in an annoyed sort of way. 

 “So,” he said, “You did well, but I had to step in, after all.”

Step in to save them. Step in to lead the Phantom Thieves back out of the dark.  Step in to do Morgana’s job. What he’d literally created Morgana to do. In the form of a cat.

Not a human.  A cat. Always a cat. Always a cat who thought he was a human. But never was, and now, surely, was never to be.

To make matters worse- the… the… the direction. The arrow pointing the way. The sense of what he was supposed to do. It was gone.   That thing that lead him to Kamoshida’s Palace, and back to Ren and Ryuji. That thing that impelled him forward to be somewhere for a reason beyond him… it had been absent when he woke up as a cat in Shibuya, after Above the Clouds.  And he’d wandered aimless without it. Long, lonely wandering until he’d finally figured out he had to choose where he wanted to be. And act on it. There was no more direction for him. He was cast loose. Aimless. Free. And a cat.

But he’d long worried he wasn’t actually a human. Long suspected, long feared… that he was actually something more like a shadow.  And while he’d never quite been able to tell Ren his fear, he’d asked Ren if he could stay even if he was something weird. And Ren had told him his place was here. Cafe Leblanc. With Ren and the Phantom Theives.

That memory had brought him back.  And now he knew what to do with himself most days.  Be with his friends. Help them as he could. And worry about himself later.   But later could not be never. And the future was starting to look a little empty.  

And Lady Ann.

It was weird for a cat to lust for a human woman, wasn’t it?  And lust was the right word, if Morgana was honest with himself.  He was really not so different from Ryuji or Yusuke in that respect.  And Yusuke. Well, he was making Ann happy now. He was human. He could do things that Morgana could not. Could never.  Because he was a cat.

I’m not a cat.

Yes, I am.

This wasn’t a useful line of thought.  Morgana decided to press on to the Sakura house. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Where he was going.  But for now, he knew that Futaba was going to need someone to talk to- assuming she didn’t just bury herself into some video game.   And like Ann… sigh, Lady Ann… like Ann said: He was essential to their lives, so, he would go to Futaba and do what he could.

He turned his paws to the familiar route. Along a cinderblock wall.  Onto a small tree’s limb. Over onto the Sakura cinder block wall. Up the steps it made toward the edge of the house, and then an easy leap to the shelf outside Futaba’s upstairs window.  It was made for plants, but served as an excellent cat nap platform, too. And as an arrival point for feline visitation.

 “Hey, Futaba. Let me in.”

Silence.  So… she was regressing into herself.  Maybe he should have gotten her sooner after all.  He let her cool too long.

“Futaba! Hey!" 

More silence, but just a Morgana was starting to consider another strategy, Futaba’s window opened.  A puff of air-conditioned air came out as Morgana pushed his way into her bedroom. Futaba shut the window after him. 

She was teary-eyed and angry looking.  Frustration. Morgana was pretty sure that’s what Futaba was feeling.  It was written all over her young features and slightly magnified by her glasses.  She sat down in her computer chair and pulled her knees up to her chin. The classic Futaba pose, but this time, Morgana thought those knees were like the walls of a fortress, and Futaba was just peeking over the top of them, drawbridge closed.  She was expecting Morgana to say something. She knew that was why he was here.

“Hey,” said Morgana, wondering how to start this conversation. He supposed with the obvious: “You didn’t have to leave.” 

“It’s not like anyone wanted me there!”

First with the hyperbole. Humans always seemed to start there.  Was the exaggeration of a problem the root of its seeming unsolvability? Seeing it as more serious than it really was?  Could that be a foundation of distortion? Regardless, it needed to be torn down first thing.

“You know that’s not true,” said Morgana,  “Ann just had a bad night and you accidentally made her angry.  It happens.”

“It doesn’t happen to anyone else!”

“It happens to Ryuji.” 

Futaba frowned. “But Ryuji is Ryuji.”

“And so…?  Ryuji being Ryuji isn’t what makes Ann mad.  It’s what he does that makes her mad.”

“Well- she never got that mad at him before.”

“No, that’s true.  I’ve never seen Ann that mad. None of us have.”

Futaba’s eyes shifted away from Morgana.  “It’s because I’m…” then her voice faded away.  She’d stopped talking because she knew Morgana could hear under-the-breath utterances.

“Because you’re…?”

Futaba’s eyes came back to Morgana, but she didn’t speak.

“Futaba, you’re in your room and it’s me. No one can hear you.  You’re the only one who listens in.”

“Exactly!” Futaba half-shouted.

 Morgana felt his tail puff up in startlement. 

“I’m the only one who listens in! The only one who spies! The only one who can’t always navigate a crowd! Can’t socialize!”

“None of the Phantom Thieves are normal, Futaba!”

“But I’m different from them, too! I can’t fight! I can’t participate! I don’t get a partner! Ren is always with Makoto! Now Yusuke is with Ann. And what’s next? Haru and Ryuji? Then there is just me! The weirdo!”

Morgana felt his own anger flare up.   What about him! Was she going to forget him in all of this?!  Morgana stood up, half-aware that the hair on half his body was standing on-end.

“At least you’re human! What about me! The talking cat! You’re a team member.  I’m like a mascot. A sidekick to the Disney princesses! You think you got it bad? Well?!”

Futaba blinked, for the moment, shocked out of her own anger.  “A mascot? No you’re not. You can fight and cast spells and do all sorts of things no one else can.”

Morgana forced himself to sit back down on his haunches, willing his fur to calm itself.   “Maybe when things are happening. But what about in life? You think you are left out? I’m the only talking cat in existence, Futaba. There is no one like me.  I literally don’t belong in this world… you just feel like you don’t. And you’re wrong.”

With his anger dissipating, Morgana felt the emptiness again. The lack of purpose. There was nothing he had to do.  There was no goal to strive for. Everyone else knew what they were doing. They knew they had to go to school. Or to work. Or to become a police commissioner or something.  Morgana was just a cat. And would forever be just that.

But he’d failed in his mission today, too. Failure again.  Futaba looked both frustrated and sad now. And he’d gotten himself sad, too.  He was useless.

Futaba stood and reached out for him. Morgana allowed himself to be picked up. And Futaba carried him to her chair and she sat down with him in her lap.  She rubbed his face in the place he liked.

“I guess we can just be outsiders together,” said Futaba, her eyes now on her computer screens.  “Disney princesses, huh? Who’s your favorite?”

“Tangled.”

“I have that one. Let’s watch it,”  Futaba started up a video and leaned back in her chair, slowly rubbing Morgana’s head.  

“You and spunky blondes…”

 

* * *

 

Later that night, Makoto sighed and leaned back from her textbook. She pushed away her shoulder-length black hair and massaged the edge of her jawline. Her jaw hurt a lot these days, and she caught herself clenching her teeth when she wasn’t even thinking about it. Ren said she was grinding her teeth at night, too. She’d never done that before, either. She probably needed a mouthguard or something. Or figure out what was causing it.

She glanced over at the couch and was slightly sad it was empty. When Ren was over, he would be lounging or reading there while he waited for her to finish her nightly studying. But tonight, Sojiro needed help with a new bean shipment. Nights like these, when they were not together, were few and far between these last two months. Two in a row was even weirder. She missed him.

Ever since the road trip, they were practically inseparable. Ren’s plot to move to Tokyo for his final year of high school was a godsend. She felt more relaxed around him, and more focused, as contradictory as that may seem.

Makoto rubbed her jaw again and stared aimlessly at her textbook. She had two, not one, but two unit exams tomorrow. College professors made no attempt to confer with each other on their assignments, so work could vacillate in intensity. One week there could be nothing but a few readings and some lectures. The next week: three papers and two tests, all in three days. If Makoto didn’t stay ahead and watch her calendar, even she would drown. It was getting to her, too. On her last test, she’d only scored 94 out of 100. 94! A shameful performance! It made her jaw clench again when she thought about it.

But you can’t get water into a bottle that has its lid on, as her father always used to say. It was a dumb saying. Practically, a dad joke. But there was wisdom there, too. Her mind tonight was now a bottle with its lid on. She could try and pour this textbook into herself as long as she wanted, but it was no use. She would be better off taking a few blessed moments to relax and then go to bed.

Oh! She could watch a bit of that mafia show from the United States, the one with the complicated fat, bald man and his family. American mobsters were quite a bit different from those in yakuza movies, but they had an honor system, too.

Makoto stood and walked to the kitchen. There were some diet sodas in the fridge, and Makoto imagined the feel of the carbonated fluid scratching her throat as she swallowed. That refreshing burn sounded amazing. She opened the fridge. Grabbed a can. Closed the fridge door.

Her father stood in the kitchen looking at her. His kind eyes smiling.

“Wow. My little princess is a queen now,” he said.

Makoto dropped the soda can. It hit the tile floor and burst open. The carbonation fizzing out in a loud hiss.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This chapter contains an explicit depiction of consensual sex. If reading such a thing makes you uncomfortable, please consider reading the censored version of this story on Fanfiction.net.

* * *

 

Her father stood in the kitchen looking at her.  His kind eyes smiling.  

“Wow.  My little princess is a queen now,” he said.

Makoto dropped the soda can. It hit the tile floor and burst open. The carbonation fizzing out in a loud hiss.

“Father?”

“But Makoto,” her father said, his face becoming sad. “You’ve become a killer.”

A killer? Makoto’s mind flashed back to the Mountain Top. To the man crawling from under the fallen trees. She heard the sound of his head cracking against the rocky ground. No. No. She wasn’t a killer. She had to do it. She had to keep them safe. But she killed him. Father was right. She was a killer. A cold-blooded killer. Sorrow exploded into her mind with almost painful pressure. She’d been wrong. She could tell she was wrong in her father’s expression. Her father’s eyes looked crushed. Disappointed. No! What had she done?

Something cold and wet hit her knee. Instinctually, Makoto looked down. It was the soda spray from the can. It was slowly rotating on the floor from the force of the leak. She looked back up. Father was gone. The kitchen was empty. She was alone in the apartment.

Goosebumps run all over her body. A ghost. Father’s ghost. Fear surged in with the sorrow already inside Makoto’s mind. Her eyes danced around the apartment, suddenly a frightening and alien place. Nothing was here. Nothing to fight. She had to leave.. She couldn’t stay here. She had to get out. Get out!

You’ve become a killer…

Makoto fled the kitchen, ran for the front door. She ripped it open and slammed it behind her. She ran down the apartment hallway. Get away. Get away!

 

* * *

 

Ren woke to a sound of some sort. He blearily blinked into the dark ceiling and vaguely heard the sound of raindrops on the roof. Then his mind jolted awake. Was it Akechi again? He jerked his body upright in the bed and looked at his desk. The chair was where it should be. So not the same as last time. The sound came again. Oh. It was just his cell phone ringing. A blessedly mundane thing.

He picked up the device. Morgana would usually complain at this point, but he was apparently sleeping over with Futaba. Ren winced against the screen light in the dark. The phone buzzed again as he held it. It was near 1 a.m. and the call was from Makoto. Pretty late for Makoto, too. But she stayed up late sometimes when more than one test faced her the next day.

“Hey,” Ren said into the device.

“Ren!”

Her voice was laced with distress. Ren’s mind revved up, his heart thudded abruptly against the inside of his chest. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m okay. Just… can you open the door? It’s raining and I’m cold.”

“The… the door?”

“To the cafe! I’m outside.”

Outside! The trains were shut down by now. Did she take a cab? “I’ll be right there!”

Ren sprang from bed, looped himself down the steps to the cafe, opened the door. He could see Makoto’s lithe frame in the window at the far side of the restaurant. Her form was illuminated by the light in the alley outside. She was hunched slightly, her arms curled around herself. Ren ran to the door and pulled it open, the door chime clanging with the force of the pull.

Makoto stepped inside almost as fast, hitting him in the chest, burrowing her face there, wrapping her arms around his back. She was still a moment as Ren closed the door awkwardly behind her, shutting out the damp night. Then her body wracked with sudden jerks, her voice sobbing into his body. He instinctually wrapped his arms around her. She was soaked in cold water. Like she’d been in the night rain for hours… or riding a motorcycle through it... Johanna.

He wanted to know what was going on, but asking questions right now would not be particularly useful. Ren had seen this before. Back during the infiltration of Sae’s Palace, Makoto would be like a rock. Sometimes for days at a time. But when she was finally alone with Ren in his room, the levy would break, and everything would flood out in a torrent of emotion that must run its course. Then, with the pressure valve relieved, Makoto would try and explain.

So now, while she sobbed and shivered into his chest, Ren held on to his concern and empathetic despair as tightly as he held onto her body. He drew her down to the floor, and they both sank to their knees in the cafe entrance, rain streaking down the windows behind them.

After a time, Makoto’s shoulders became still and she sniffled. They leaned away from each other, and her crimson eyes were red around the edges and puffy. A glistening of mucus was under her nose.

“Let’s get you into dry clothing,” said Ren. He drew her back to her feet and she nodded. Ren led the way back to his room, and he took out an extra towel, a long sleeve, sweatpants, and a pair of boxers. Her leggings looked soaked through and through. Ren set them on the table and then sat down on the edge of his bed, facing her.

“Thanks.” Makoto said, and then she took off her drenched sweater. She rubbed the fabric on her face to clean herself up a bit, then dropped it and took off her wet bra after that. Ren averted his gaze slightly so she would not feel like he was ogling her. There was nothing sexy about this situation- just two people accustomed to each other’s bodies.

She toweled her upper body off and then slid the dry long-sleeve over her head.

Makoto sighed. “I didn’t know it was raining when I left my apartment. But I didn’t want to go back in.”

She unzipped her skirt and pushed it down along with her leggings. She stepped out of them, lifted the sweatpants Ren set out, saw the boxers underneath, looked at Ren for a second, then pulled down her panties, too.

He again looked aside as she toweled off and put the dry clothing on. After arranging her wet clothing on the banister, Makoto walked across the room and sat down on the bed next to Ren.

“My father was in the apartment. He talked to me.”

“What? Like- like a ghost?”

She nodded slightly, looking down at the floor. Makoto was scared of ghosts. She’d freaked out quite a bit when they’d first met Futaba in a dark house during a lightning storm. She was a logical person, but she was also logical enough to reason that no one could be entirely sure about everything, so that left a loophole in her universe for the supernatural, the unknown, to spook her. Not to mention the near-magical realities of the old Metaverse, their powers, and the like. The border between real and unreal was not as clear cut as it once was. Regardless, she didn’t watch many scary movies with Ren. Which was too bad- Ren liked it when she clutched onto him during jump scares.

But that was hardly relevant to the issue at hand. Makoto was saying she saw the ghost of her dead father, and Ren was inclined to believe Makoto about anything she claimed- about anything. The woman didn’t lie. He loved her. And he himself saw Akechi Goro in his own room last night.

“Did he say anything to you?”

“He said I was grown up,” Makoto leaned her head on Ren’s shoulder, her voice breaking one again. ”And he called me a killer.”

Ren knew well-enough that for Makoto, the memory of her father was like a guidebook to her life. How to live it. How to act. What was good and what was bad. His memory was her moral compass, and if he was condemning her past actions- Makoto would no longer know which way was north.

That was probably the core issue of her distress. The shock of seeing her dead father, certainly a big part of it, but the scolding… a dreamed-for impossible reunion with a lost parent, and then he expresses disappointment... Ren’s parents were both still alive, but he had enough emotional intelligence to empathize with the pain Makoto was feeling from that shock.

Ren’s first instinct was to deny that she was a killer, but as he opened his mouth, he stopped himself. His words would not outweigh those of the late Niijima. It would be useless, or worse, make him seem as wrong as she was, according to her father. That would leave him in a weaker position to help her. Best to try and help Makoto do her own churning here.

“A killer?” Ren mirrored. “Because of Matsuzaki?”

Makoto shook her head against Ren’s shoulder, then pulled away and looked at him.. “Not all of it. But I think I know what-... who he means. Do you remember the last two men? When we rode across the field on Johanna?”

Ren did. His mind showed him that quick ride. Gunshots bouncing of Johanna’s canopy. A small copse of trees collapsing on a gunman, and Johanna rolling over him. Then a short time later, the man, apparently unarmed, had tried to crawl out from under the fallen vegetation and Makoto neutralized him- immediately and efficiently. It had been like in medieval movies: the victorious soldiers walking over the wounded and trapped foe, and spearing them to finish the job.

“Yes. I remember them.”

Makoto’s eyes began to dance between his, they teared up again, water glistening in their corners. “I couldn’t let him get up, Ren. I couldn’t. The other man I let get up… he shot you! He almost killed you! And this time we had Akechi to deal with, and maybe more enemies- I couldn’t let that one get up, Ren!”

Her voice was nearing panic again- her tone was pleading. She was arguing with herself, her father, him. All of them and none of them as her conscience seemed hellbent on tearing her apart tonight.

Ren placed his hands to either side of her face and leaned in. “Makoto, hey, look at me.”

The proximity calmed her eye dance, at least. Her gaze focused on him. He said: “All the decisions you made that day helped us get out of their alive. All of us. And we were all doing anything and everything we could to survive that mess. You can’t cherry-pick one decision and torture yourself for it.”

But Makoto shook her head, pulling his hands away, and gazing back down at the floor. “Sorry, Ren. That just sounds like an excuse. I still killed a defenseless person. That’s just no way that’s not bad. I am a killer.”

Damnit. Ren had just wandered into the trap he tried to avoid for himself- he’d accidentally disagreed with her father. He needed a way to back out of that- or a way to get her to consider some other conclusion.

“Maybe if the guy would have just slunk away and left us alone. But you can’t be sure that would have happened. He could have easily gotten up a few seconds later and shot us both in the back. That is a legitimate possibility, too. That would mean you did it in self-defense.”

Makoto scoffed out a breath at that argument, and she half-glared at him out of the corner of a crimson eye. It was a good sign. If she was dismissive of his chain of logic, then her emotions were settling down and Makoto’s primary logic engines were coming back online to full strength.

“Preemptive self-defense? That’s a self-serving prophecy, Ren.”

“So is the opposite! The one that you were wrong. Just because you worry that it was the bad call, doesn’t mean that it was.”

Makoto’s lips pursed as she considered that. She turned her head back and looked at him thoughtfully. “I-... suppose that is true.” She looked away again, eyes calculating. “I would need to figure out which was more likely…”

Retrospectively figure out the likely decision of a dead man? Maybe Makoto’s logic engines weren’t quite booted up yet, after all. But once again, Ren stopped himself from saying anything. If he asked how she planned on doing that, it would just start her right down the path of doing exactly that. Was that a healthy road or not? Perhaps that was just how a trail to closure looked like in Makoto’s mind- or maybe it was just a half-delirious idea borne from a late night and the emotional aftermath of the visitation of an apparent ghost.

“Why don’t we get some sleep?” he said gently.

Makoto nodded. Smiling softly. “Yeah, that’s probably best.”

Ren reached past her and turned out the light, the room falling into gloom. He settled down onto the side of his bed, still not much more than a cot- but he and Makoto had shared it many times. She settled down next to him, back against his chest, rump against his groin- in a now well-practiced spoon position. With one arm under the pillow, and another wrapped around her midsection, he felt content in having her secure and warm against him. The smell of her was rich in his nostrils, it threatened to trigger his sexual excitement, but this was certainly not the night for anything like that. He ignored it.

Makoto snuggled herself backward into him. It didn’t help his struggle to calm himself, but she liked to be held in private moments like these. Ren wasn’t much of a side-sleeper, but he happily made the attempt on nights like this. He would rather lay awake, holding her, and trying to sleep- than to drift off and miss these quiet moments.

After a long silence, Makoto’s sleepy voice said: “Ren.”

“Yeah.”

“The Takahashi thing. You said you were going to explain it.”

“Oh. Well- talking about your number like that sounds like you wanted him to take you on a date.”

Makoto sighed. “Of course. It seems so obvious now. I sent the wrong signal. But I just don’t think people would be interested in me like that.”

“You’re smart. Confident. Beautiful. You have an amazing body.”

“I do, do I?”

“Yes. So, you might be safer to assume every guy wants to date you.”

“Oh? Well, I guess I’ll remember that.”

“Actually… please don’t.”

Makoto’s soft laugh faded off into a sigh of relaxation. Shortly, her breath changed into the familiar pattern of sleep.

 

* * *

 

Soft morning light awoke Ren before his alarm could manage it. Makoto was still on her side next to him, laying on his arm. He’d moved in his sleep, drifting onto his back slightly. He let his eyes travel down Makoto’s form, her breathing steadily in sleep. Ren was warm. Makoto was both soft and firm. He didn’t want to go anywhere. Ren snagged up his phone from his pocket and checked the time. It was still about an hour before he needed to really get up. A blessing. He set his head back down and watched Makoto sleep for a time, enjoying the calm moment. Not worrying about anything. Not planning anything. A rare and amazing moment of stillness, in both body and mind.

He lay there for long moments, and then she turned towards him, her back falling against his chest once again, now that he was more or less on his back now. The drop in elevation seemed to wake her. Her face turned towards his. Makoto’s crimson eyes fluttered open and focused on his. She smiled. He smiled in reaction to the sight. Ren simultaneously wrapped his arms around her more firmly, and she snuggled down into his embrace.

“Hi,” they said to each other.

“What time is it?” said Makoto.

‘Just after five. I don’t have to get up till about six.”

“Mmm.. that’s about the same for me.” Her eyes drifted away from him to look at the ceiling, the crimson color gleaming with the reflection of the lighted window above them both. Her face remained content and relaxed, the soft morning illuminating her skin, juxtaposing her dark hair.

She seemed recovered from last night, but Ren did not want to ask her directly about it- for fear of bringing the memory back. So instead, he watched her face. It was even more interesting now that it was animated with her consciousness. But his gaze did not go unnoticed.

She looked back at him. “What are you staring at?”

“You.”

“Obviously. But why?”

Ren didn’t feel like answering that question verbally. Instead, he pulled his shoulder out from under her slightly to gain the angle, and then returned his hand to the side of her neck like last night. He kissed her. She responded, her mouth acting with his. Her own hand settled to the back of his neck and then roamed slightly up into his hair.

Her breath began surging huskily between sequences of kisses. It was the first sure sign of arousal. Ren breathed in heavily through his nose, drawing in the scent of her. He broke from her lips, kissed along her chin. Knowing his destination, Makoto arched her neck and Ren began kissing along it. He inhaled again, and the aura of Makoto was thick in his nose- he felt his body surge in response. Suddenly, he didn’t have enough of her yet. Ren wanted more. His arms roved along Makoro’s shoulders, then down the smooth fabric of her shirt, then finally finding and exploring the bare skin of her sides and stomach where the borrowed long-sleeve had hitched up in the night.

Makoto seemed to sense the change, too. Her hand’s captured Ren’s face, she gazed into him with her crimson eyes again and then drew him in for more kissing. Meanwhile, her legs began curling around his own, reminding them both that they were both inconvenienced by sweatpants at the moment.

Ren’s hands traveled up her taunt core and found her breast. He moved his palm over the bottom of the mound of it, and teased the tip of her nipple with his fingertips. It was already firm, so Makoto shivered a little from the playful touch. Their kisses broke and she smiled at him mischievously, then lightly, playfully bit at his lip. Ren twiddled the nipple some more. She laughed softly and Ren kissed down along her neck again, then slid up the shirt to reveal both breasts. He caressed one in the hand while kissing her collarbone, then kissing down and down and finally cupping a hard nipple in his mouth and swirling around it with his tongue.

“Ah!”

While Ren amused himself with Makoto’s breasts, her hands roved into the back of his shirt collar, along the muscles of his upper back, and then back out into his hair. Her legs continued to rub against his as she enjoyed his attentions.

Ren’s right hand left her breasts, traveled down her stomach, and moved slowly into her sweatpants, keeping over the boxers, and found the soft warmth between Makoto’s legs. He pressed in two fingers slightly and rubbed.

“Oh.”

He began the pulsating pressure he’d learned she liked, and her body started to come alive next to him. Her hands continued to rove his back and head, but they began gripping his flesh or hair intermittently. Her groin seemed to grow slightly warmer to Ren’s fingers- a vague moisture tangible through the fabric.

Ren was enjoying Makoto’s chest, collarbone, and neck- and there was no hurry. He didn’t want to leave just yet, and she seemed to be enjoying the attention. So Ren pulled his hand out of her pants, swiftly brought his fingers to his mouth and moistened them with his saliva, then sent the hand back down, but into Makoto’s borrowed boxers this time- his fingers venturing into the amazingly soft, moist flesh between her thighs.

“Whoa!” Makoto looked up at him with amused surprise. They hadn’t done this all that often. Both of them favored the main event too much. But this time... Ren’s fingers rubbed around the mound of her clitoris.

“Oh!” her head fell back to the pillow. Ren played there for a time, while he kissed her shoulder or her cheek intermittently, but mostly he just watched the emotions play over Makoto’s face as his fingers explored her.

Makoto’s body was reacting even more strongly now, moving a bit against his hand. She reached for Ren’s groin and grabbed the erection through his sweatpants. He didn’t react. She rubbed his length through the clothes, she raised her head to look at him, crimson eyes intense. He knew that look, but he was still having fun.

He kissed her. Her hands went to the back of his head and her lips pushed into his with intensity. Meanwhile, he slipped a finger inside her. Makoto’s lips lost their connection with his as she said: “Oh!”

Ren curled his finger up into the spongy tissue just inside and above the opening and towards her navel. She gasped. Her eyes going wide, her mouth with a sudden wide smile but mixed with pleased surprise. Ren started a pulsating pressure with his fingertip. Makoto’s head fell back onto the pillow and she gasped. Ren watched.

Her hands roved the bedsheets, as was her custom, then onto her own stomach and then onto her own breasts. Ren increased the pressure and she grabbed in response. Her back began to arch slightly. Ren increased the speed slightly. Her hips responded, her hands shot out, one grabbing Ren’s hair, one his bicep. She grabbed hard, tensed up. Ren felt his finger being gripped, too. Then with a shuddering gasp, a musical squeak, Makoto arched up and stretched her neck. Then she relaxed back down to the bed, a contented smile on her face.

Now it was time. With a smile and dreamy eyes, she watched him shimmy off his own pants. Then she lifted her hips obligingly as he pulled off hers, sliding his hands along her thighs and legs as he did so. He moved atop her, her legs open and inviting, her eyes sparkling. He leaned down and kissed her, wanting the smooth warmth of her lips again. Her taste. And simultaneously, lowered his erect organ towards her, and slid into her slick heat with a suddenness that almost overwhelmed him. It was his turn to gasp into her kiss.

She laughed softly, held his face and kissed him again, as her warm calves wrapped around the back of his thighs and pulled him fully inside. Her taste on his lips, her eyes linked with his, her breasts lightly teasing against his chest, his body linked with hers, in hers, encompassed by her. It was entirely too much. The vibration of climax was immediately a concern, but she was moving her hips slowly, watching him, already pushing him towards the ledge.

“Wait. It feels too amazing this morning. I need to get under control.”

“For what? I already had my turn. Just enjoy it.” She smiled at him a little impishly..

Ren was enjoying it, but he still didn’t want it over that soon. Still, he could honor the spirit of her request and not go out of his way to avoid his climax.

He curled one hand under her back, arching her against him slightly. He circled the other behind her head, and he kissed Makoto again as he backed himself out and then back in. She moaned softly behind the kisses, and he continued a slow, comfortable rhythm that was notably building that vibration between his legs at a steady rate, but not too quickly.

Suddenly he felt his organ being gripped all around.

“Oh!” he said.

Makoto grinned, then thrust her hips against his. Pushing him deeper inside and against the gripping resistance that was hitting just that spot along his shaft. He felt the vibration increase suddenly, intensely. She moved again, and again. He tried to pull away, but her legs locked around him.

Ren felt the vibration move past that point of no return that meant he was going to climax and there was no stopping it. He grabbed her body to his, his arms wrapping up all of Makoto that he could. He began thrusting deeply in and out. Makoto held on to his shoulders, making small gasping noises.

Ren clenched his groin muscles as hard as he could, holding back the avalanche as long as possible, but after a dozen thrusts or so, the dam burst and the intense pressure in his body exploded into waves of pleasure. He collapsed into the curve of Makoro’s neck as his lower body pulsated. Makoto’s legs curled around him tighter. She kissed his neck as his breath shuddered in and out.

After a time, his mind rebooted and he raised himself to look into Makoto’s eyes.

“Good morning,” he said.

Makoto’s head arched back slightly, her eyes smiling as she laughed. “Good morning!”


	7. Chapter 7

 

> # Error: Compilation Error:  “takamakiAnn” ;
> 
> # run debug ;
> 
> …
> 
> …
> 
> # Error(s) found: 1. 
> 
> # Source: badmeeting01.avi ;
> 
> # run badmeeting01.avi ;
> 
>  

Sakura Futaba watched the memory of Ann’s reaction at the meeting last night while she accomplished tasks in her bathroom:  Showering, brushing her teeth, and other such hygiene issues were practically on autopilot. A minor part of her processing power went to accomplishing those tasks- the rest of her mind was focused on the memory of Ann from yesterday afternoon.

 “That’s cause you got to do stuff!” said Futaba’s voice from behind the camera. ” I just hid behind a stupid hill and chanted. You all got to kill all the bad guys.”

“Do stuff?... ” said Ann. She sounded shocked.

Ann’s head turned towards the camera. Her hackles rose. Her shoulders scrunched up and became more pronounced.  She bared her teeth slightly as she began to talk: 

“That’s good, you moron! You think I fucking enjoyed myself up there, Futaba?! Killing the bad guys?! Think any of us did?! Grow the fuck up!”

> # Error. Compilation Error.  ;
> 
> # takamakiAnn > sakuraFutaba = -50 <3:
> 
> # phantomThieves >sakuraFutaba = -20 <3; 

Futaba shut down the memory replay as she walked down the stairs to gather her lunch from the kitchen.   Her school bag was ready. Ren would be here any moment to pick her up. She began reviewing her understanding of Ann. 

> # TakamakiAnn = function (phantomThief, woman) {
> 
> personality (kind, funloving) ; 
> 
> likes (sweets, fashion, leisure ) ;
> 
> dislikes (homework , attentiononherbody) ;
> 
> wounds (kamoshida, parents , shihoguilt) ;
> 
> }

There was nothing in there that could have prepared Futaba for Ann’s reaction yesterday.  Even if she bothered to go deeper into the code and search out the information on all those variables, Futaba knew that it would not give her an answer.   Like so many times since she emerged from her room, she would need to change the code.

> # var TakamakiAnn = function (phantomThief, woman) {
> 
> personality (kind, funloving) ; 
> 
> likes (sweets, fashion, leisure) ;
> 
> dislikes (homework , attentiononherbody, SakuraFutaba) ;
> 
> wounds (kamoshida, parents , shihoguilt, mountainTop) ; 
> 
> } 
> 
> # Error. 
> 
> # Unknown Variable: mountainTop ;
> 
> # var mountainTop = …   … …
> 
> # run mountaintop.avi

Futaba watched the memory of thin grass waving in a light wind.  She heard gunshots. Screams from various people. But mostly her own voice droning defensive spells over and over.  There was no information here. What happened to everyone up there? She had a few memories of people telling vague recollections. But no one really talked about what happened with Ann and Yusuke in the forest.  Everyone seemed scared of it.  

Futaba’s phone buzzed. She looked at it. It was a text from Ren.

> # amamiyaRen = function (phantomThief, man) {
> 
> personality (supportive, confident) ;
> 
> Likes (conversation, longbaths, niijimaMakoto) ;
> 
> dislikes (bittergourd, notbeinglistenedto, akechiGoro, ) ; 
> 
> wounds (falsecharges, policemistreatment, torture ) ;
> 
> }

==J: I need to head to Makoto’s place to pick up some stuff she left there last night. Long story. But Makoto doesn’t have time before her first class to get there.  Can you make it to school with Morgana?

> # if (amamiyaRen =X= niijimaMakoto) {
> 
> text (“Sure, Futaba. Let’s do something together.”)
> 
> }
> 
> # if (amamiyaRen === niijimaMakoto) {
> 
> text (“Can’t do anything with you, Futaba. Makoto is here!”) 
> 
> } 
> 
> # sakuraFutaba > amamiyaRen = -20 <3 ;

Futaba angrily typed out a response on her phone.  

==O: yeah fine. U skipping?

==J: Thanks. It’s a bit of an emergency this morning. Sorry.  And sorta. Ms. Kawakami is covering for me. I’ll be there before lunch I think.

Futaba pursed her lips at that.

> #Error. 
> 
> #Unknown variable: emergencythisMorning 
> 
> ...
> 
> # sakuraFutaba > amamiyaRen = +10 <3 ;

“Morgana!” Futaba yelled as she dropped her lunch into her backpack.  “Ren’s not coming to get me this morning. Are you coming to school?”

> # morGana = function (phantomThief, cat) {
> 
> personality (enthusiastic, mercurial) ;
> 
> likes (sushi, lickingself, facerubs) ;
> 
> dislikes (vegetables, beingdiscounted, pettingagainstgrain ) ; 
> 
> wounds (beingacat, beingcreated, rebellion ) ;
> 
> }

“I can’t fit in your bag!” called Morgana from upstairs. “I’m just gonna have a cat morning, I guess.”

> # sakuraFutaba > morGana = -20 <3 ;
> 
> # partyInvite > amamiyaRen = rejected ;
> 
> # partyInvite > morGana = rejected ;
> 
> # var partySize = 1 ;

Futaba walked outside and slammed the door behind her.  She walked the now well-known path to the subway station.  Her eyes downcast on the pavement, watching memories.

> # run amamiyaRen_re_mountainTop.avi ; 

A memory of Ren’s face appeared before Futaba, but at 50% opacity, so she could still see where she was walking.  Ren was somewhat downcast, he was frowning, and he had that tired look he usually only had when he thought no one was looking at him.

“I was where Ann was supposed to be, but she wasn’t there,” Ren said, his eyes still not looking into the camera. They were glazed slightly. He was seeing the memory as he spoke, like Futaba could. “Yusuke wasn’t there. Makoto wasn’t there. But I thought I knew where they might be, and then someone shot at me.  It was a lone guy, so I tricked him and… neutralized the threat…”

> # var killPeople = [“kill”, “murder”, “self-defense”, “neutralize the threat”] ;

Ren closed his eyes, as if to avoid the sight of something in his memory. He continued: “Anyway… in doing so, I had to sort of… leap sideways.  And when I landed, I landed on a dead person. But they were… cooked. Its… his... skin came off like a rotisserie chicken. I had to scrape it off my hand on a tree.  And I stood up… and there were over twenty more just like him all round.”

> # run okumuraHaru_re_mountainTop.avi ;

Haru’s face appeared over the opening subway door as Futaba boarded the train to Shujin Academy.  Her eyes were looking directly at the camera, and she had that beauty-thief look to her: the really self-confident Haru that seemed to switch itself on and off like an augmentation spell she could only cast on herself.

“Six armed men moved into my area of responsibility.  I was alone. Four of my friends were in the forest- perhaps injured. I’d just heard a gunshot and someone scream Ren’s name. I was afraid for them. Afraid for myself. And the source of that fear was these men.  So I did what I had to do.”

> # var killPeople = [“kill”, “murder”, “self-defense”, “neutralize the threat”, “do what I
> 
> had to” ] ; 
> 
> # run takamakiAnn_re_mountainTop.avi ;
> 
> # Error: File not found.  ; 

Futaba sighed and let her eyes wander the train.  A news bulletin flashed by on a screen near the ceiling of the train car.  It said it was Wednesday, May 15th, and that the city was starting to prepare for the Sanja Matsuri festival this coming Sunday. 

 

* * *

 

 

Futaba wandered into the school with a few other arriving students.  Students were idling around in groups while they waited for the start of classes.  Just a bunch of NPCs Futaba needed to navigate around to get to the stairs, but as she placed her foot on the first step, some feminine squeals gained her attention. It was coming from the hallway that lead to the courtyard.  She turned and headed towards the noise.

Three schoolgirls were nervously looking at a trashcan against the wall.

“Mukade!” one was squealing. The others were staring at the trash can with expressions of fear and curiosity.

> # query “mukade” ; 

The image of a large centipede appeared before Futaba’s mind.  The infamous Japanese giant centipede. It had a painful bite and was notoriously aggressive.  They were mostly a rural pest; however, so it was a surprise that one would be in the center of urban Tokyo.

“Kill it! Kill it!” said one of the girls to no one in particular, but just then, a thin young man with short hair entered through the door leading to the courtyard.  Futaba recognized him as the NPC that Ren was friends with.

> # mishimaYuuki = function (NPC, man) {
> 
> personality ( unimpressive ) ;
> 
> likes ( ) ;
> 
> dislikes (  ) ; 
> 
> wounds ( kamoshida ) ;
> 
> } 

“What’s wrong,” he asked the three girls.

“There’s a mukade behind that trash can! Kill it!”

“What? A mukade?”  And without hesitation, Mishima stepped towards the trash can and lifted it up.  A long, tubular insect was still against the corner of the floor and the wall. It moved slightly as the light hit it.  The three girls squealed again. “Oh-my-gosh! Kill it!’

Mishima bent down to look closer at the creature.  He then set down the trash can and gently picked up the long insect and cupped it into his hands. 

“What are you doing!?” said one of the girls.

“It’s not a mukade. It’s just a millipede.  It’s harmless.”

“So? It’s gross. Just kill it!”

Mishima ignored her and instead turned and went back out into the courtyard, his hands still cupping the creature. The girls watched him go.

“Who was that?”

“I don’t know. Some third year, I think.”

“What a weirdo.”

The girls walked away. Futaba followed Mishima into the courtyard.  She scanned the area and didn’t see Mishima anywhere. But he just exited the door, he couldn’t have gone that far.  She stepped forward and caught sight of Mishima’s head over the top of a small bush. Futaba stepped forward again and looked down over the hedge. Mishima was crouched and allowing the millipede to crawl its way out his palm and into the soil under the hedgerow.

Futaba had spent most of her morning so far thinking about killing.  Now here was this NPC boy Mishima doing the opposite. It was like her life was presenting her with a side-quest with a minor character.  If Futaba initiated dialogue, she would probably learn something. That’s how RPGs always worked.

“Mishima!” 

Mishima nearly jumped out of his skin. His body jerked in surprise and he fell back onto the short tropical grass of the school courtyard. A surprised and shocked look on his face.

“Ms. Sa- Sakura!”

“Why didn’t you kill that bug?”

Mishima’s mouth gaped open. “Uh- because it’s harmless. It won’t hurt anyone.’

“No. I mean why would killing it be bad? It's just a bug. It’s not a person or anything.”

Mishima’s eyes went sideways as he thought about the question. He pulled his legs in and was now sitting somewhat pensively in the grass.  He rubbed the tops of knees in a somewhat nervous fashion.

“Um- I guess it’s because of something I learned at the planetarium.  Have you been there?”

“No.” 

“Okay. Well, they talk about the beginning of the universe.  About how everything started out as pretty much a single element. Hydrogen. And then all that turned into stars, and the stars processed that element and made new ones. And then the first element and the new elements made new stars and those made new elements until we have all the types of atoms and stuff we know about today.  It said we all have atoms inside us that used to be in stars.”

Futaba had heard this before, it wasn’t exactly a new idea.  But Mishima continued:

“So if we are like that, then all life is like that.  Like this millipede. And I can’t help but look at it and wonder at it.  The atoms from stars made everything on this planet. And however it happened, life came from those atoms. And that life made new life with a new line of events, the DNA chain, you know? And DNA changed over billions of years to evolve and lead to that one little bug behind a trash can in our school. The DNA of that bug is unique in all creation, and if I were to squash it, something individually special in the entire universe would end… a chain of events over 13 billion years long would stop... just because someone thought a harmless bug looked icky.”

Futaba looked at Mishima in silence. The young man began to blush. Futaba didn’t notice as she began rewriting some code.

> # mishimaYuuki = function ( minorCharacter, man) {
> 
> personality ( philosophical, gentle ) ;
> 
> likes ( astrophysics, science ) ;
> 
> dislikes (  ) ; 
> 
> wounds ( kamoshida ) ;
> 
> }

“Thanks, Mishima. I got to go to class.”

“Uh- okay. Bye.”


	8. Chapter 8

Ren met Makoto outside the public bath across from Leblanc. She was wearing her dried leggings and skirt, but one of Ren’s more unisex shirts. She looked the perfect image of a rushed college student. She beamed a smile at him and then they both set off for the nearby subway station.

“Thanks again for offering to do this, Ren.”

“Don’t worry about it. Your classes are more important than mine.”

“That’s not true. Your education is just as important.”

“I mean that less happens in them. I can afford to miss a day more than you can.”

She turned her head and frowned at him. “Just don’t fall behind. You need to keep it together if you are going to get into Waseda, too.”

Ren flashed her a smile “I know. Don’t worry.”

She didn’t smile back, instead looked at him intently. “I’m sure that not a single one of the things you worry about is about yourself. Someone needs to worry about you. You sure won’t.”

Ren laughed and broke away from Makoto’s gaze. “Me? I’m fine.”

Then despite himself, Ren’s mind went back to Ann’s outburst and Futaba’s retreat. He regretted not being able to walk Futaba to school this morning, but she would keep for a day. Makoto’s assignment was due this afternoon. And as non-ideal as it was, there had to be a certain hierarchy to Ren’s life, and by simple virtue of love, Makoto would always rise to the top. But there was also Ann. She wasn’t sleeping. She was dreaming about the Mountain Top. What could he even do about that? Did he need to do anything about that, or would it just solve itself? Maybe he should do some research.

“Ren.”

He blinked and turned back to Makoto. She was still looking at him, both of them walking slowly. But now her’s was a slight expression of concern. “Ren, you look tired.”

Ren sprang out of his introspection. “Makoto. I’m fine.”

Her crimson eyes gave him a doubting sort of look of calculation, but they were at the point where they would separate to different trains. Ren stopped as she did, they looked at each other. He was filled with the urge to grab her to him and kiss her, but he knew that she would not welcome that in this very public spot. But she did draw close, place a hand on his chest, and smile. Then they parted ways. Her north to Waseda University. Ren south to her apartment building.

He entered the train, spotted a seat, but an older man was headed for it. So Ren abandoned the effort and stood in the aisle, taking out his phone to browse the news headlines. Nothing particularly notable for the day- a slow Wednesday. The front page of the national news channel featured a video of a shiba inu dog being cute. Very slow Wednesday, apparently.

With nothing in the news to focus Ren’s attention, he let his eyes wander about the subway car. The seat he was headed for was indeed filled with that older man, who was reading one of those shukanshi tabloid papers: “The Inugami of Ichigaya! Three eyewitness accounts!” read the headline. Ren’s eyes roved away. He aimlessly looked at the other people on the train- dozens of fellow citizens gazing at phones or off into space on their way to the next destination of their lives.

Then Ren’s gaze settled on a man with roughly shoulder-length brown hair, a pristine school uniform, and a steel briefcase. Ren froze. The hair on the back of Ren’s head began to stiffen, but then the train jerked, people swayed, Ren’s sightline was blocked for a moment, and then everyone resettled. The young- man in question turned his head to look at something with a bored expression. It wasn’t Akechi. Ren let out a slow breath and closed his eyes- a slight headache suddenly developing as his pulse slowed back down. Maybe Makoto was right. Maybe he was tired.

 

* * *

 

Ren arrived at the door to the apartment Makoto shared with her sister. One could never be sure Sae was home, as she set her own schedule based on her caseload, but it was more likely that she was not. Just to be polite, Ren knocked a few times. There was no answer. He employed the house key that Makoto had provided him.

The Niijima residence was a modest midtown apartment with two bedrooms. Government work wasn’t the most profitable of jobs for attorneys, and Makoto only worked part-time while going to a prestigious university. But for that, it was a luxurious amount of space. Ren enjoyed coming here- but that mostly because Makoto was here.

He decided the clean-up operation should be first. Ren headed for the kitchen and took a look at the floor. The soda can was where Makoto said it would be, and it was surrounded by a circle of half-dried syrup. Ren rummaged under the kitchen sink and found a spray bottle of cleaning liquid, snagged some paper towels, and set to work on the kitchen tile.

“Why did you wait to clean that up, Makoto?”

The sound of Sae’s voice surprised Ren. He hadn’t expected her to be here. It was normal work hours, after all. He stood up from the kitchen floor, and looked towards the direction of the hallway. His eyes traveling up the cupboards, then to Sae’s bare, shapely legs, white panties, bare midriff, white bra, long neck, and extremely surprised facial expression surrounded by damp hair.

Their eyes met, both of them mouths open in shock. And then Ren, panicking and unsure of what to do in this situation, resumed the upward movement of his eyes and stared determinedly at the kitchen ceiling.

Niijima Sae was the not the type to cover up, blush, or retreat- especially not inside her home territory. Ren’s peripheral vision gave him a vague sense of her putting hands on both hips and fixing him with a challenging and irritated stare.

“I’m fine with Makoto giving you the key, Mr. Amamiya, but you should still knock!”

“I did, Ms. Niijima! Several times!”

Sae was silent a moment. “Well, perhaps I was in the shower, then. But- did Makoto send you across the city to clean up a spilled can of soda?”

“No. Well- yes. But it was my idea. And I also need to pick up some homework she forgot here last-” Ren’s mouth snapped closed. Sae was aware of the level of intimacy between him and her sister, but they all still kept certain… physical realities of it on a respectful, subtle basis.

“-last night?” Finished Sae. “So she went over to your place, I take it.”

Ren tried to stare even harder at the kitchen ceiling. It wasn’t exactly his place to tell Sae about the ghost of her father that Makoto saw in the kitchen. He tried to think of something to say, but he only managed an: “Uh-...”

“I see,” said Sae.

They were both silent for a moment. Ren feeling Sae’s gaze- and feeling his neck start to complain about this unnatural angle. But finally, mercifully, he heard Sae turn and walk away towards the bedrooms. “Well, make sure the floor isn’t sticky. And lock the door when you leave.”

“Yes, Ms. Niijima.”

 

* * *

 

“Waseda, please. Waseda.”

Ren stood and left the subway. A short climb to a modest residential urban intersection was followed by a mild walk of a block or so down a pleasantly landscaped street. Trees canopied the two-lane road and the protected sidewalks along either side. The campus buildings towered over Ren on the right side, as did a smaller wall which served to be a noise barrier, Ren assumed. At the bottom of a gentle slope, the wall opened into a pedestrian entrance of the campus revealing a narrow paved lane between multi-story university buildings.

A little way into the campus, Ren spotted Makoto sitting on a narrow bench under a tree. She was reading a book with an intense look on her face. Ren realized Makoto was in the study tunnel. He knew that posture anywhere.

“Hey,” he said as he drew close.

Makoto didn’t react. Her eyes still steadily consuming the page before her.

“Makoto… Niijima Makoto!”

She jumped slightly. Her eyes snapped to him, instinctual frustration simmering in their crimson gleam. But then she recognized him- and probably remembered he was arriving on a special errand just for her.

“Oh, sorry, Ren. Hey.” She put her book away.

Ren handed her the binder and paperwork from her apartment. Makoto sighed in relief, her eyes roving his with grateful energy. “Thanks so much! This assignment is a huge part of the class grade.” She began packing the delivery away into her own bag. “Did you see Sae, by chance?”

“Uh- yeah. Yeah, I saw her.”

“Good. She’s been staying away from home a lot lately. I was worried she was drifting back into old habits.” Makoto sealed up her bag and looked at him. “She works at all hours, but she’s been better about taking her allotted time off. Just… she does it whenever she wants, day or night.”

“Sae isn’t the type to let something silly like the sun dictate her schedule.”

Makoto laughed. Then she checked her watch. “You were on perfect time, though. I need to get moving for this very class.’

“Sure,” said Ren, enjoying seeing her here, amidst these buildings, students with bags and serious looks on their faces passing on both sides. It was like seeing Makoto in her most natural of environments. She fit in.

“What’s that look about?”

“Just looking at college you. I haven’t gotten to see much of it yet.”

“College me?”

“Yeah. She’s amazing.”

Makoto’s eyes opened a bit wider. She blushed and looked sheepishly to either side, as if to check if any of the people walking by were eavesdropping on them. Whether they were or were not, Ren didn’t particularly care. And then Makoto drew into him, hand on his chest, and Ren thought he was going to get a kiss. But she hesitated. Stopped. Blushed slightly.

“Thanks. I love you,” she said softly.

Ren felt the warmth of something more than a kiss spread through him. “Love you, too.”

Then she withdrew and turned. Then stopped, spun around with a determined look. Leaned back in and quickly kissed Ren on the lips. Then with a blushing smile, turned and strode away. Her shoulders back, stride long, head high: A determined woman with a goal ahead and the path open before her. Ren watched her go, her skirt swaying above her leggings.

A few other passing men turned to watch her, too. Ren in turn watched them. Two of them didn’t notice him and went on their way. The third man’s eyes connected with Ren’s, then quickly flicked away.

Yeah, that’s right.

Makoto was lost to the flow of students, so with warmth in his heart (and a satisfied, primal male thing now restful in his soul), Ren turned and headed back to the subway. It was way past time for him to get back to Shujin Academy.

 

* * *

 

The bell for lunchtime rang. Futaba exited her classroom with the ambition of finding Ren wandering the halls with Ryuji. Instead, she discovered Ann in the third-floor hallway, leaning idly against the windows and drawing the gawking attention of most of the first-year boys with her shapely legs. Ann pushed herself to a standing position when she saw Futaba.

Futaba was not expecting to see Ann up here. The emotions of yesterday flooded back into her mind: the shock and embarrassment; the feeling of being the odd member of the group punctuated by Ann’s vehement disapproval of her. She felt her heartbeat thud uneasily in her chest.

> # System Notice: PSU irregularity.  
>  # System Notice: Cooling Fan at 2400 rpm

“Futaba. I want to talk to you, okay?” said Ann, “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

> # var gowithAnn ;  
>  # if (gowithAnn = true) {  
>  ( sakuraFutaba > takamakiAnn = x + 1 <3 )  
>  }  
>  # if (gowithAnn = false) {  
>  (sakuraFutaba > takamakiAnn = x - 1 <3 )  
>  }

“Um-” said Futaba, as her gaze slipped away from Ann’s blue eyes and focused on the wall. These kinds of social intricacies were still unfamiliar. NPCs didn’t get hurt feelings. They also didn’t hurt Futaba’s feelings. They were not capable of that. But Ann, like all the Phantom Thieves, was no NPC.

> # var gowithAnn = true ;

“Okay, I’ll listen.”

Ann smiled lightly, and then her eyes shifted to the steady line of curious 1st year students. “Let’s go on the roof, then. It’s probably a bit more private.”

“Okay.”

They walked together to the small stairwell that traveled up to the roof. The double door was plastered with a notice to not climb on the fencing, and another poster featured an anime-styled cartoon girl with a black ponytail. It was drawn to make her look like she was losing her balance and was in danger of falling off the roof. Falling danger, explained the poster.

Ann ripped the cartoon warning from the door and crumpled it up in her fists. She threw the crumbled paper against the wall, then opened the door in a sudden jerk. It slammed noisily into the doorstop as Ann stalked out under the open sky. Futaba followed a little nervously. Ann was angry again. She didn’t get angry that often. Well, she didn’t used to.

Ann stopped in the middle of the roof- or at least, the small amount that the anti-fall (anti-jump) fencework allowed her to be in the middle of. She put her hands on her hips, looked to the sky, then looked to her feet. She sighed. Then turned back to Futaba.

“Sorry, about that, too. I was angry at something else that time.”

They looked at each other.

Ann’s eyes crinkled with regret. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Futaba. I shouldn’t have.”

Without even executing a command, Futaba’s mind recalled Ann’s face from yesterday. The shocked, pain-filled look of Ann’s that was the precursor to her outburst. What Futaba had said made that happen. Futaba didn’t like that. “

I didn’t mean to say anything bad,” said Futaba, “I’m sorry I don’t understand.”

Ann frowned. “I don’t understand either, Futaba. It’s just- what you said made me so angry, so suddenly. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything exactly like that before. It just.. triggered something in me.”

> # run takamakiAnn_re_mountainTop.ave  
>  # Error: File not found.

“What happened to you on the Mountain Top, Ann?”

Ann closed her eyes and her mouth became a thin line. But they opened again and she gazed tiredly into Futaba, her blue irises vibrant in the high noon light.

“Yusuke got hurt. I got hurt. But that’s not really it. It was how scared I was. Even in the worst fights in the Metaverse, when it looked like we were goners, I never felt anything like this, Futaba. It was… it was… just- malicious, I guess. I don’t know how to explain it. Like Akechi’s men… they chose to be doing what they were doing. They weren’t shadows who were attacking us because that’s just what shadows do. These men, they wanted to hurt us, kill us, and they would be happy when they succeeded. I felt cornered. I felt helpless. I thought a bullet would end me any moment. Pop. Lights out. And I would leave Yusuke there bleeding and suffering until they came close enough to finish him, too.’

‘And the thought of that happening. Or maybe just the idea that all those men wanted such a thing to happen. I just suddenly realized they weren’t people, Futaba. They were like- flies, or rats, or some kind of animal that even I wouldn’t think twice about killing. And then I burned them. I burned them all. And for a few weeks, when I thought about it, Futaba. I could hear them scream. I could see them melt when I closed my eyes. And sometimes I could even smell it. And I was getting better, but two nights ago, I had this dream that brought it all back again. It’s like it just happened.’

‘So when you seemed disappointed that you didn’t get to kill anyone. It made me feel like you thought I was just having a great time. But it's awful, Futaba. Really awful. I don’t know if you’ve felt something like it before- but its like when you wake up from a nightmare where you did something really bad, on accident or on purpose, but instead of realizing that it was just a dream and nothing happened- it really did, and you have to get up and go on with yourself knowing that.’

> # Alert: run thatday.avi  
>  # Cancel  
>  # Error unable to cancel  
>  # Cancel  
>  # Error unable to cancel

Futaba’s mother was standing before her, near the edge of the sidewalk. She was walking a little strangely, and then she grabbed her head, looked back at the camera, her face a mask of fear and pain, and then she stumbled into the street and the passing car mowed her down.

Futaba’s throat tightened. Her face tensed up. Her jaw clenched. And she felt the oppressive weight of guilt settle into the center of her chest. She knew this feeling. This was what she used to feel every day.

> # run truth.exe  
>  # I did not kill mother. Akechi Goro killed mother. It was not my fault.

The guilt and tension faded away from Futaba’s body. But Ann was teary-eyed, obviously holding back her emotions. Futaba realized that Ann was feeling what Futaba used to. The oppressive guilt. It was clear to Futaba now.

“No. I’ve felt that before. I’ve felt that a lot.”

Ann looked at her with surprise, then with sudden realization. “Oh, of course. I’m sorry, Futaba. You probably know better than me what I’m talking about.”

“Maybe. But now I know why what I said made you so mad now. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It was an accident,” Ann’s voice was soft, then her eyes traveled to the fencework surrounding them. “Not like this stuff.” She walked over to the fence and put her fingers through the chain-links, shaking them slightly. “This isn’t an accident. Someone tries to kill themselves, and what do the adults do? Do they seek the reason? Do they try and figure out what the person was running from? No! They worry about legal liability! Then, they fucking put up a fence so one else tries to fucking escape the same way!” Ann punctuated her sentence by kicking the fence. It rattled slightly but stood firm.  
She was talking about Shiho. Futaba had never met the girl, but the others had told her the story. It was Ann’s deepest wound, but they’d just been talking about the freshest wound, the Mountain Top.

Another memory came to Futaba’s mind, unrequested. She was looking down at her own knee. It was scabbed over in several places from when she fell on the sidewalk a few days before. Futaba felt the texture of the scabs, didn’t like it, scraped one away. It hurt! And blood started to come out again!

That was what Ann was doing. Maybe not so intentionally, but her wounds were not healing. They were constantly being reopened and bleeding anew. Futaba had done that to her yesterday with her comment: Scraped off a scab just a bit. But, maybe Futaba could be like mom for Ann and help put on band-aids, too.

“Shiho is fine now, Ann. Right?”

Ann’s head whipped back to Futaba, surprise in her blue gaze. But then Ann nodded. Looked away. Rubbed her eyes. Then turned back to Futaba, the scaffold of a smile on her face. Not a bright smile, but it could maybe grow into one.

> # takamakiAnn > sakuraFutaba = + 40 <3 ;  
>  # var TakamakiAnn = function (phantomThief, woman) {  
>  personality (kind, funloving, mercurial) ;  
>  likes (sweets, fashion, leisure) ;  
>  dislikes (homework , attentiononherbody, ~~sakuraFutaba~~ ) ;  
>  wounds (kamoshida, parents , shihoguilt, mountainTop) ;  
>  }

“There is a new drink in the vending machines,” said Ann, her voice steadily strengthening. “Nigauri flavored. I’ve never had it before. Want to try it with me?”

> # query “nigauri” ;

The image of a warty, green cylindrical fruit came to Futaba’s mind. It was known by various names, but commonly as the bitter gourd for its notoriously bitter taste.

> # run amamiyaRen_re_bittergorud.avi ;

An image of Ren appeared. He was chewing on something and he had an intense look of disgust on his face. Ren swallowed, rubbed his tongue on the top of his mouth while frowning deeply. ‘It tastes like when you accidentally get mosquito repellant in your mouth.’ Ren pushed the small plate of cut vegetables towards the camera. ‘Want to try it, Futaba?’

‘No.’

But now it was a peace offering. A challenge. An adventure. Futaba smiled at Ann and raised her fist into the air.

“Challenge accepted!”

Ann laughed and they headed back down to the courtyard of the school where several vending machines waited the days away for thirsty and peckish students.

“There it is, Futaba.” Ann said excitedly as she pointed at the display can in the vending machine. The drink was called ‘Nigauri Power’ and the can claimed its no-sugar formula was the secret elixir of Okinawan longevity. A personified bitter-gourd fruit was on the can with a neutral face. It reminded Futaba of a cactuar from the Final Fantasy games.

Ann purchased two cans and passed one to Futaba. Futaba placed her finger on the pull-tab.

> # System Alert: Viral video opportunity.

“Wait, Ann! Let’s film our reactions!”

Ann laughed. “Okay! Yeah, good idea!”

Futaba got her phone out and set it on the nearby picnic table. She turned on the camera and set the video to record. Adjusting the case stand just right before moving into the camera angle.

Futaba’s phone faithfully recorded the scene before it:

Ann’s blue eyes were shining as she smiled into the camera while Futaba moved into the shot and sat down next to her. Futaba’s long orange hair billowing slightly with the rapid, sudden movements of her body.

“Sakura Futaba here with Takamaki Ann!”

“Heeeyyy!”

“And we’re gonna try-...” Futaba held the nigauri-soda can up close to the phone camera, the cactuar-looking gourd staring evenly at the viewer. “This super nigauri soda! Can we maintain a normal face? Find out!”

Futaba pulled back and offered her can up to Ann. She clinked hers against Futaba’s. Then they both opened their drinks and took dramatic, head-back swigs.

“Ugghghghgh! It’s like a punch in the tastebuds!”  
“Bweeeaaahhh! God, that’s so bitter!”

Both Ann and Futaba’s faces were scrunched up, both smacking their mouths and tongues in a futile effort to scrape the taste away.

“Hey!” said a happy male voice. Ann and Futaba looked to the side of the camera frame as Ryuji walked into the shot with a curious Ren following just behind.

“What are you two doing?” said Ryuji with curiosity.

“Doing the nigauri-soda challenge!” said Futaba seriously, holding up the can for Ryuji to see.

“Nigauri soda?” Ryuji’s voice was skeptical. Ren frowned ever so slightly.

“Wanna try and keep a straight face, Ryuji?” asked Ann, offering her can to him.

“Easy!” Ryuji said, taking the drink and immediately swigging it. His eyes shot open, his cheeks puffed out. But he swallowed it down with a wince. “Holy shit! Wow. That is ... not good!”

Futaba turned to Ren and offered her own can. She grinned impishly. “How ‘bout you, Ren?”

“Um- no thanks. I can imagine it fine.”

Ann was quick to seize on the hesitation. “Come on, leader. We all drank it.”

Ryuji snickered. “Yeah, leader. Try it.”

“Do it. Do it,” chanted Futaba. Ryuji and Ann quickly joined in.

“Do it. Do it. Do it.”

Frowning and defeated in the face of peer pressure. Ren took the can from Futaba and took a swig. His face screwed up in disgust and his head jerked back in instinctive repugnance, his glasses falling from his face.

Everyone burst out laughing.

“Fucking classic!” said Ryuji.


	9. Chapter 9

“We took in a lot of used books this week. Help me inventory them, Mr. Mackerel. I need someone who understands this device.”

Otohime slid a tablet computer over to Ren. It seemed he would be spending this afternoon shift at the bookstore with Otohime herself. The program appeared to be a basic inventory system, as far as he could tell. Type in the name of the item, a few other details, and it was done. She passed him a few books, he would enter them, and he would pass them back for her to sort into piles of whatever organizational system she used. They worked in companionable silence for a time.

“So- I have a target for you. It’s time for you get to the real work.”

Otohime passed another book to Ren. It was The Great Thief. He paused for a moment and considered it. He looked at Otohime. She was eyeing him with a small smirk on her face, then she went back to checking another book. Ren entered this one into the system.

So, she was moving forward even earlier than expected. The Phantom Thieves were waiting for the results of this exact conversation, and he’d more or less been given his marching orders by the team: make sure it’s a good target and don’t be a puppet. Well, he could do that. Negotiation was Ren’s job on the team, after all. So now was the time to get the best deal for himself and his friends.

Otohime was a businesswoman… of sorts. Ren set the book aside and picked up another one he’d already entered. It was titled Playing the Game. He passed it back to Otohime and said: “Then let’s talk price.”

Otohime frowned darkly at him, then looked at the book, and chuckled. “Ah, this is the mackerel I remember. But price?” She thumped the book down on the pile. “You don’t have any leverage.”

Ren nodded to himself and entered in another book as Otohime stared at him. When he didn’t respond, she turned back to her other books and resumed whatever she was doing. Then Ren passed another of his selections to her: Pirate Legend. “You want our services more than you want to turn us in. That’s leverage.”

Otohime didn’t laugh this time. Instead, her fingers tapped on the book cover. “You wouldn’t risk ruining your friends’ lives. The leverage is mine.”

“No. You don’t grasp what we’ve suffered. And willingly so. Some jail time and limited professional prospects aren’t on the same level.” He passed her another book.

Otohime’s attention was fully on him, but she looked down at Cry of Cthulu.

Ren waited for her to look back up at him. Her aquamarine eyes seemed to hold a curious expression “You also don’t grasp what we can do if we wanted to.”

“Like what?”

Ren looked at her plainly. “My friends and I climbed a mountain. So did over forty trained gunman. We walked back down. They didn’t.”

She stared at him evenly. Then turned back to her books. She passed over Wise Men’s Words. “What’s your price, then?”

He passed Zorro the Outlaw. “Three-billion yen.”

“What!”

“Yes. All of it in one go. We’ll pay you back, but we won’t be your servants. So pick a good target. A real big fish.”

“At that price, I should ask you to take down a god.”

Ren didn’t respond. She wouldn’t believe him anyway. They stared at each other for a time. Then one of Otohime’s official-looking goons walked towards them from between book aisles.

“Yes?” barked Otohime.

“Boss. Mr. Taoka Kintano is here.”

Otohime’s face became grim. “I understand. Lead him here. Mr. Mackerel, make yourself scarce. You don’t want this man to know you exist.”

“Who is Mr. Taoka?.”

“A problem. A big problem. Now, get!”

Ren stood up immediately at the tone. It was too much like his own grandmother. He then moved behind the reserve shelves behind Otohime’s workspace. He was out of sight, but it was easy enough to peek through the cracks in book piles and still see Otohime at her desk. She seemed to be calmly waiting, though Ren couldn’t see her face as she was looking away from him and towards the front of the store. More of her men appeared- the serious ones. No Mr. Circles or Mr. Triangles at this gathering. The goons stood in a tense semi-circle. Hands limp at their sides- likely near where their weapons were hidden.

More men emerged from the book aisles. Their suits were also black, but they were cut slightly differently. They looked…more expensive. These new arrivals spread out on the opposite side of the open space around Otohime’s desk. They too stood tensely, arms limp at their sides. The two groups of goons eyed each other.

After a moment’s delay, a youngish man entered. He was wearing a stylish, rich brown suit. Ren thought the man dressed like a Korean soap opera actor- all in different shades of the same color, but with a variety of interesting texture differences between his jacket, suit, and pants.  
“Ms. Otohime!” the man said with a sparkling eye. He bowed formally. “It’s been far too long.”

“Mr. Takoa,” said Otohime. She bowed her head slightly while remaining seated- the privilege of her status as a venerable elder woman.

One of Otohime’s goons placed a chair before Otohime’s desk and bowed to Mr. Takoa before backing away.

“Have you eaten?” asked Otohime as Mr. Takoa sat down with a flourish of his suit jacket.

“No, but I am not hungry.”

Otohime turned to one of her men. “Tell Benkei to fetch some nice bentos. And prepare tea.”

“Yes,” the man said with a bow and left.

Mr. Takoa didn’t object. Ren realized he was watching some kind of ritual exchange. It wasn’t like any Yakuza thing he’d ever seen in movies. It was more like a nephew meeting an aunt or something. But who knows what the movies really got right? Otohime seemed to have history with this young man, so perhaps this was something private between them.

“So-” said Mr. Takoa. “How is Matsuzaki?’

“I trust you heard the news?”

“Of course. That was an unexpected end for Mr. Next Prime Minister.”

“Indeed. And it became so noisy there. The hotels constantly full. The roads clogged. People with badges asking questions.”

“I can imagine.”

Otohime made a gesture with one of her arms. “So this is my little spot of solitude. An old woman with some dusty books.”

“Yes, a Shibuya bookshop. An interesting choice. How is business?”

“Slow, but profitable.”

“I see. Well, that’s good news for you.” Mr. Takoa curled one leg over the top of the other, his ankle bouncing slightly. “Speaking of business. I just recently had a setback myself.”

“Oh?” said Otohime.

  
“Yes. A rather distressing setback. One of my most profitable locations was raided by the police. My men were captured. My stock was lost. Not to mention that night’s profits.”

“Ah, well. These things happen.”

Mr. Takoa’s face transformed and he abruptly slammed his fist on the arm of his chair. “No, they fucking don’t!”

Otohime’s men flinched slightly, arms moving inwards towards coats. Takoa’s men flinched in response. The situation seemed to teeter on the edge for a moment, but then Mr. Takoa regained his composure, pushed a hand through his hair, and waved his men off. Otohime’s men relaxed, too. Ren couldn’t see Otohime’s face, but she hadn’t moved at all, as far as he could tell.

“Still with the temper, I see,” said Otohime in that snarky voice of hers. Ren quietly puffed out his breath. This woman. What does she do when she realizes the wolf is rabid? She pokes it with a stick.

But Mr. Takoa laughed. Some of the sparkle in his eyes returned. “You know, my grandfather said something to my father about you that I’ll never forget. He said: ‘Otohime fucked me in more ways than one.’”

He laughed lightly to himself again.

He continued: “ I was like-... six, so I didn’t really know fully what he meant, but I do now. Because here I am, just days after Otohime Boton shows up in town… and I’m getting fucked. That’s a weird coincidence, isn’t it?”

Before Otohime could respond, Benkei’s massive bulk lumbered out of the book aisles. He was carrying two wooden bento boxes. He bowed and set one before Mr. Takoa and one before Otohime. He pulled the lids off both, revealing a colorful assortment of food around an angelic white mound of rice. Mr. Takoa didn’t seem to take his eyes off Otohime during the entire process.

“So,” said Otohime as she took up her chopsticks and broke them apart. “You seem to think this police raid was my doing? I admit, using the police against each other is an old technique. And I’m old. But in those days, the police were much easier to buy.”

“I know it wasn’t my own lieutenant, Ms. Otohime.”

Ren saw Otohime’s arm freeze just for the barest of instants. If he saw it, then surely Mr. Takoa saw it. But then she picked up a pickle slice.

“You’re sure?”

“The man lasted for a long time. He never confessed to anything. I regret losing him.”

“You never did think things through. Just like your grandfather.”

Now Mr. Takoa froze, then set his leg back on the ground. He picked up the chopsticks from his own bento and broke them apart. He jammed them point down into the center of his own ball of rice. He then stood and placed the bento tray before Otohime like an offering.

“Eat well and in good health, Ms. Otohime.”

Then he turned and left, his men filing out behind him, with the last two walking cautiously backwards- keeping their eyes on Otohime and her men. Ren watched Otohime keep still as they left. Then she reached for Mr. Takoa’s offered bento, took the impaled chopsticks out of the rice, and delicately picked up a pork cutlet and ate it. Her head roved her gathered men as she chewed. Ren couldn’t see her expression, but each of her gangsters seemed to firm up and straighten as Otohime’s gaze went past them.

“Well?” she barked, “We’re at war! You all know what to do. Get to it!”

The suited goons all bowed and dispersed into the bookstore, leaving Otohime alone with the two bentos. Her shoulders fell slightly. She dropped her forehead into one of her palms and rubbed at her temples. She was stressed. Perhaps even afraid. If Ren were to guess, it seemed Otohime had miscalculated her enemy. And while Otohime had never really revealed her family’s strength to Ren, he was pretty sure it was relatively weak. Supposedly she had culled quite a few members when she’d had her change of heart, and without most illegal activity available for income generation, Otohime probably struggled to keep everyone paid and loyal. And Ren didn’t know who Mr. Takoa was- but with that temper, he was certainly dangerous. And if it was his sex slavery operation that Otohime had shut down, there were probably more.

This was an interesting development. This was something Ren could use to his advantage. He decided he no longer needed to conceal himself, so he returned to Otohime’s desk. She looked up at him with a tired expression. Joker sat down in Mr. Takoa’s chair.

“I assume that’s my target,” said Joker.

Otohime’s hand stopped rubbing her own temples. Her aquamarine eyes widened slightly. “Your target? Takoa Kitano? Of the Yamaguchi-gumi? Actually… it wasn’t who I had in mind...”

“Why not? I assume he was the one behind the human trafficking operation you destroyed? He obviously thinks it was you who attacked him.”

Otohime’s arms fell back to the desk. She straightened and looked at Ren with her usual brooding gaze. “There are lots of big fish in the sea, Mr. Mackerel, but Takoa Kitano is hōjirozame.”

“A great white shark worth three-billion yen.”

Otohime’s fingers rapped out a collapsing pattern on the desktop. “You’re selling life jackets on a sinking ship, Mr. Mackerel.”

“A negotiator knows his market.”

Otohime rasped out a guffaw. “Fine. It’s a deal. Do your thing to Takoa Kitano, and we are even.”

Joker smiled, then curled his own leg up in an intentional imitation of Mr. Takoa. “First, I need more information. Any deal we strike needs to be… ratified by the other members of my organization. They will all need to be satisfied that Takoa Kitano is someone worth their time.”

“You’re joking. You’re their leader. I know you are. I can see it in your gleaming, calculating eyes, Mr. Mackerel.”

‘A front-man, perhaps, but leadership is somewhat nebulous amongst us. We move as one. Think as one. Strike as one.”

“Oh.. so mysterious. You’re enjoying this.”

Joker considered the excitement and anticipation bubbling in the bottom of his mind. He was. This was the start of a new mission. Amamiya Ren knew the signs well enough by now. Next would be the investigation. Then the planning. The tension. The danger. The action. The addictive sequence was setting itself into place for him, for all of the Phantom Thieves, and they all needed to do their part to hold each other back from diving headlong into that high and being consumed by it. Thus was one of the numerous needs for unanimous consent.

“They say happiness is being paid to do what you love.”

“Do they?” said Otohime. “Well, that makes Mr. Takoa a very happy man. Yes, he ran the brothel. He runs lots of brothels. Finances lots of pornography studios- and supplies the actresses; women in debt, women with male relatives in debt, I’m sure you know the sterotypes, but Mr. Takoa makes such things a reality. Drugs. Extortion. Frankly, it would be quicker to tell you the things he’s not involved in.”

Ren needed things more concrete than words to bring back to his team. “Do you have evidence of any of this?”

“Personally? No. But it’s everywhere. People who oppose him suddenly make rather public statements reversing their position. The ones that don’t disappear for a while, then reappear as brutalized corpses.”

“He’s getting away with murder?”

“Yes and no. The hitmen get caught and are jailed. But there are dozens of men now cooling their heels in prison for decades- for Mr. Takoa. I tell you, Mr. Mackerel, fear any person capable of generating that sort of devotion.”

Ren thought about that. It sounded like this Mr. Takoa would be a different animal from the other two yakuza targets the Phantom Thieves handled. Neither Kaneshiro or Otohime seemed the type to murder if they could avoid it- the missing person that murder left behind was noisy and hard to clean up. So if Mr. Takoa and his family did it so often, they were much more powerful, more ruthless, and altogether more dangerous. They wouldn’t think twice about killing a threat and throwing another low-value thug into prison for it.

He didn’t want any of his friends to even be on Mr. Takoa’s radar. He would push for the Phantom Thieves to be in the background of any operation. Otohime would need to do any frontline work, but he could raise that point up much later. That was a worry for after the Phantom Thieves’ decision to accept the target- assuming they did.

“You said… the Yamaguchi-gumi?”

Otohime sighed, “Don’t kids read these days? The Yamaguchi-gumi is the biggest syndicate in Japan, and Mr. Takoa’s group is a rapidly rising faction within it. He inherited his father’s clan, and is common with youth and ambition, starting moving aggressively. It’s inevitable that some of the higher-ups would want to crush him back down, and that was what I tried to stage when I outed his brothel a few days ago. Unfortunately, he saw right through it. I didn’t think he would be that bright. His grandfather sure wasn’t.”

“Are you Yamaguchi-gumi?”

“Yes, but I’m so old, most don’t remember that I am. Kaneshiro was, too. As I said, Yamaguchi-gumi is big. Too big for them to keep track of all their members, and even if they could, the individual bosses are mostly autonomous.”

If Ren applied the concept to his understanding of Japanese history, it sounded like the central Yamaguchi-gumi was like the shogunate, and the bosses were like regional daimyo. If the shogunate was busy or otherwise satiated, the daimyo could move against each other on their own ambition.

“Could you solve this politically?” Ren asked.

Otohime shook her head. “I’ve spent decades in Matsuzaki, and anyone in power that I knew is already dead. Cancer, disease, heart attack, time. My powerbase collects offerings in graveyards, Mr. Mackerel. I am the last.”

“I see,” said Ren. So Otohime seemed to be saying that information on Mr. Takoa would be everywhere. A villain too strong and/or too clever for the police to handle. He obviously did operate that brothel the police broke up earlier in the week, and that was the slavery of something like twenty women. A person capable of that would certainly have a Palace. They were surely gravely distorted.

But after the rush job on Otohime in Matsuzaki, Ren suspected the Phantom Thieves- namely Makoto, would be focused on slowing down and doing this one right. Like they used to. A methodical collection of information that made the target seem inevitable. They’d better get started. Mr. Takoa didn’t seem like the person to wait around, and Ren might wake up one morning to find Otohime dead- a quick loser in a yakuza war she’d accidentally started.

But did that really matter? She was an ally now, but she was a guilty, guilty woman. Who knows how many of Mr. Takoa sins that Otohime herself already accomplished in her lifetime. If a bullet found her in the dark, would that be such a terrible thing? Would it not be poetic justice?

Probably. But that was only half the story. Mr. Takoa was apparently amongst the most vile of humanity, and Ren felt confident that the Phantom Thieves would uncover a great number of innocent victims in need of justice. Taking Mr. Takoa down would do much more good for society than simply standing aside and letting him rub out Otohime, a reformed force for good. It would be a net decrease, in Ren’s calculation.

“I will discuss this with my team,” said Joker. “My shift is over. This is more important, I think.”

“Oh, it is? Is it?”

“Yes, and I would like my wages for today, and for Monday.”

“What?”

“Our deal means the three-billion will be repaid. That means you owe me for my hours. Minimum wage, I think you said.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“It would be pretty ridiculous if I had to report you to the Labor Standards Bureau for a few thousand yen. Exploiting high-schoolers is a pretty big deal, as I understand.”

Otohime glowered at him. Then she reached under the desk and tossed a few bills on the surface of her desk. “I expect a positive response from your group.”

Joker picked up the money and grinned at Otohime. “We’ll see.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Author's Note: I've added two new scenes to Chapter 5. I realized this week that I was neglecting one of my goals of this work: work with the entire cast in depth._
> 
>  
> 
> _So, I'm enriching a key moment of the early parts of this act:_
> 
> _After the meeting where Ann gets mad at Futaba, there is now a "ship" scene between Yusuke and Ann on their walk home._
> 
> _There is also a scene where Morgana seeks to comfort Futaba after that same meeting. It is the first Morgana POV I've attempted._
> 
> _Thanks for reading!_

* * *

 

* * *

 

Ren left the Shibuya bookstore in high spirits, his feet taking him in the direction of Shibuya Station. That could not have gone better. Not only was Otohime now on the backfoot, but the target which presented itself seemed a sure bet. Takoa Kintano, huh? He seemed like the type that the Phantom Thieves would target. One could just tell.

But then again. The Phantom Thieves were not exactly in top form. Ren’s walking pace slowed unconsciously.

Ann and Futaba seemed to be on good terms again this afternoon at school. They must have patched things up without his interference. That was a relief. But whatever was bothering Ann wasn’t solved. Meanwhile, Morgana was still a worry, but he’d volunteered to comfort Futaba, so he wasn’t withdrawing from them. A worry, then. But perhaps not a crisis. And then there was Makoto and her seeing the ghost of her father.

Ren checked his phone. It was a bit after five. He’d gotten out of his shift an hour early. That meant Makoto was still working her shift at the Waseda Student Bookstore. Between classes and that job, she’d been like Ren: moving non-stop today. The issue with seeing her father was still a pressing matter, but it had been on hold for the day. With free-time imminent, she was sure to bothered about it. Ren suspected she would not want to be alone tonight, either. That suited him just fine, though it kept him away from Morgana another night. But… he had to prioritize… and it was Makoto…

Moving away from individualistic concerns, the Phantom Thieves needed to hear about this new development. Ren started up a group text. He paused before typing. It was only 5 pm. They could all meet this evening easily enough. It was just a bit last-minute...

==J: I have news about Otohime. Can we meet tonight? Leblanc?  
==P: ok  
==O: ooooh news!  
==S: can’t man, I got something with my mom  
==F: I too have an engagement  
==J: ok. Tomorrow after school?  
==N: I have plans then, sorry  
==S: me too  
==J: ok…. Tomorrow night?  
==S: sure  
==N: yes  
==F: I am available  
==P: ok  
==Q: yes  
==O: ill tell morgana.

Ren supposed a day’s wait wouldn’t hurt. If that was too late to save Otohime, then she was not able to be saved. She would need to fend for herself for now. She was a survivor. His phone buzzed again.

==Q: hey, can you stay with me tonight?  
==Q: I need to go home but I would rather have you there  
==J: of course  
==Q: great! I’m not supposed to have my phone out while working. See you soon.

A night over at Makoto’s was an ideal evening as far as Ren was concerned. At her suggestion, he’d stashed some clothing in her room, including a school uniform. So Ren simply needed to text Sojiro and let him know he wouldn’t be back to the cafe tonight.

He typed and sent that text, then looked up from his phone. Something white caught the corner of his vision. He turned his head and looked down a narrow alleyway. A few dozen meters down, a large, white akita was sitting on its haunches and watching him. It had a reddish circle on its head. Ren stopped walking and stared at it. He’d seen this dog before. A few days ago in Yongenjaya. The dog stared back, then stood and walked down a side-alley and out of Ren’s vision.

Ren was curious now. Did the animal have a collar? Maybe he should try and lead it back home to Yongenjaya. He turned and headed into the alleyway in pursuit of the animal. He turned the corner into the side-alley, but there was nowhere to go. The side-alley was just a few dozen meters long and it ended at a single door in the side of a building. Generic building walls, paved ground, and a manhole cover. No dog. Ren walked to the end door and tried it. Maybe someone let the dog inside? Maybe that’s why it stood up and went this way? He looked around the small space and saw no hole or gap that would allow a dog that big through it, or even a smaller animal though. He supposed someone let it in that door. So this must be that dog’s home.

Ren looked up at the building. It seemed to be one of the multiple-story commercial buildings that littered this area. But one never knew the full extent of what might be inside them. Sometimes shop owners had apartments for themselves. Well- anyway... He turned back for the main Shibuya street. That dog sure got around. Wandering all the way to Yongen? But perhaps big dogs had big territory.

The alleyway behind him went silent after Ren’s receding footsteps faded away. A dead-end alley in a concrete jungle, forgotten even by those who made it. It was still and quiet, as it usually was. And then the manhole cover vibrated slightly and turned in its perch. Then all was quiet and still again.

 

* * *

 

“Waseda, please. Waseda.”

Ren walked the path to Makoto’s campus for the second time today. He was exceptionally glad that he’d thought to negotiate for his wages from Otohime. They were meager. Only two shifts at a low wage- but yen was yen. He’d spend several hundreds on the subway today going back and forth through the city. He didn’t let himself use the team account for this sort of thing- that was only for full-group expenses. And even that was starting to get low. The road trip had done a number on it, that’s for sure. Money was starting to become a concern again. The Metaverse used to provide for them, but that funding source was gone.

And Makoto needed all her money to help Sae with things around their home. Ren wasn’t fully aware of the financial details regarding Makoto’s tuition, it wasn’t exactly his business, but surely idle cash was not something that was going to be in flush supply.

But today! Today he had a few thousand in his pockets. Enough for a cheap meal for two. And that sounded like just the thing. Maybe Makoto would want to split a challenge burger at Big Bang?

Makoto was striding out of the campus bookstore as Ren arrived, her shapely legs whipping her along to her next goal. She looked up from her phone with surprise to find him waiting for her.

“Oh!” She smiled, her crimson eyes sparkling in the late afternoon light. “I was just texting you. You didn’t need to come back out here to meet me.”

Ren smiled back, the memory of this morning suddenly replaying in his head. “I was eager to see you again.”

“I’m fine, Ren,” she said as he fell into step with her.

“That’s not why I was eager to see you. I was just eager to see you.”

“Oh, I see,” she smiled and glanced away with a blush, as always, checking if anyone was overhearing them. She looked back. “You wanted to meet tonight? You have news from Otohime?”

“Yeah, a potential target, I don’t want to use the name in public, but…’

He told Makoto about the meeting between Otohime and Takoa and his thoughts regarding the event. Ren generally didn’t want to discuss meeting matters with team members before the actual meeting, but Makoto was a special case. She was his partner, so he didn’t keep important things like this from her.

“He does sound like he could be a good target,” Makoto said begrudgingly. “And getting us out of Otohime’s shadow for the three-billion in one go would be ideal. One less thing to worry about. But this man sounds dangerous, Ren.”

“Yeah. And we can’t just go to his palace. We have to go to him and touch him.”

“And stand frozen and defenseless around him while we infiltrate the Palace...” Makoto’s jaw clenched. “How can we do that safely when he’s got so many soldiers around him?”

Early information was one thing, but early planning and early worrying were not things Ren wanted to do with anyone before the main meeting. “Let’s wait for the meeting first. Everyone needs to agree on the target before we go into those kinds of details.”

“That’s true,” Makoto sighed. “No need to get ahead of ourselves.”

As they bordered the subway train, Makoto’s phone buzzed.

“Oh, Sae says she will be coming home for dinner tonight. She’s asking if she should pick something up, but I’ll tell her we’ll get something.”

“Sounds good.”

The train started moving as Makoto sent the message.

“What should we get?” Makoto wondered aloud. “We can stop by the grocery near my apartment and pick something up to cook. Maybe they will have a deal on some nice fish.”

Makoto made great fish, but Ren was in the mood for something heavier. “I made Otohime pay me for my work time, so... “ He flashed a thoroughly unremarkable amount of yen in front of Makoto’s face. “How about we get some karaage?”

Makoto gave him an exasperated look. “A big spender now? Shouldn’t you save that?”

Ren put on an exaggerated pout. “I don’t wanna.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, which meant Ren had won. “Fried chicken does sound good. And I can cook up some veggies we have at home for sides.”

Yes! Karaage night!

 

* * *

 

There was a karaage place not too far from Makoto’s apartment, and Ren liked this one quite a bit. They did something special with their sauce that just made the texture of the batter and meat sing- it even got better if it had to sit for a while. As if the deliciousness congealed onto the food and made it even better than when it was right out of the fryer. They purchased a healthy amount for three and then walked to Makoto’s building, Ren enjoying the latent heat of a bag of fried chicken.

They exited the elevator and walked towards Makoto’s door. She began slowing as they approached. Ren looked over and saw clear trepidation on her face.

“He’s not there,” Ren told her, “and if he were, he’s your father, isn’t he?”

Makoto glanced at him with nervous eyes. “That doesn’t seem very comforting.” Then her gaze grew more determined. “But I can’t be afraid of my own home.”

She strode forward and put the key in her lock. Turned the bolt. Turned the knob. Then paused. Froze. She turned wide crimson eyes to Ren.

“Um… could you go in first, Ren?”

“Of course.”

He moved forward and she opened the door for him. He felt goosebumps go up his skin as he entered the dark apartment. For all his own words of confidence, he didn’t particularly want to meet the ghost of Makoto’s father either. Uh- hi, Mr. Niijima. I’m your daughter’s lover. Nice to meet you. Please don’t haunt me.

But the apartment was empty. The lights revealed the single main-room dwelling as he’d always known it. The front door opening to the combination kitchen, dining room, and living room. The tv and couch to the immediate right. The kitchen island and the large dining table to the left. The bedrooms were to the left and around an immediate corner past the kitchen.

“It’s clear,” he said, and a blushing Makoto followed him in and shut the door behind them.

‘I feel like such a child,” she mumbled, setting her backpack on the couch.

“I was scared when I saw Akechi,” said Ren.

Makoto froze on her way to the kitchen. She turned back to him. “What did he say again? That things were leaking out?”

Ren didn’t like where this was going. “Yeah…”

“Maybe its related. My dad and Akechi. Maybe they are… the things leaking out.”

“... from where?”

Makoto shook her head. “I don’t know... Yomi?”

“The land of the dead?” Ren felt goosebumps again. “No. No way. That's just mythology. It’s-”

“Not real?” said Makoto. “How can we possibly know what’s real and what isn’t anymore?”

Ren didn’t have a response to that. They stared at each other. New worries with no hope of answers bubbling up throughout Ren’s mind. He didn’t want to get bogged down in them right now. “We’re scaring ourselves over nothing. We just had nightmares, is all. It’s nothing.”

“My dad was here, Ren. It wasn’t a nightmare.”

Ren sighed. “I know. And so was Akechi, but- what can we do but scare ourselves speculating?”

Makoto’s face softened somewhat. “That’s true.”

Ren just wanted to change the subject. “Do you need any help with the veggies?”

“Sure. There are some green beans. Can you prep them?”

So while the chicken congealed on the dining room table, Ren and Makoto worked on a few veggie sides. Resolutely not talking about ghosts or things related to them. That didn’t stop Ren’s mind from thinking about them, however.

So as they worked in companionable silence, Ren began to think about yomi and ghosts and dead things. And if the Phantom Thieves had super powers in the form of their real world personas, could not other things come out into the real world and cause trouble? Is that what was coming? They’d already killed men on a mountain... was it a larger- or a smaller- leap to envision the Phantom Thieves slaying things like zombies in the streets? He wasn’t sure. It almost sounded more believable as they already did basically that in the old Metaverse.

“I think Sae is feeling lonely,” said Makoto, breaking Ren out of his train of thought. She was looking at him, her crimson eyes filled with that sparkle of calculation. She’d spotted him trapping himself again.

Ren welcomed the distraction. “Yeah? Lonely? Like… romantically?”

“Yeah. She said as much to me on Monday when we had lunch.”

Ren’s mind betrayed him and recalled the image of Sae in her underwear. “She’s beautiful. I can’t imagine she has trouble with that. I would date her in an instant.”

When Makoto didn’t immediately respond, he looked up from the beans to find her staring at him with a dangerously cool look on her face. Whoops.

“If I wasn’t in love with you, obviously… Hey, she’s your sister. Of course she’s beautiful. It runs in the family.”

“I think I can follow that logic,” said Makoto, turning back to her salad prep. “Anyway, I’m sure the average male is of the same mind as you, apparently. The problem is Sae doesn’t make time for that sort of thing. She’s so focused on her work. I’m glad she was able to help us as the SIU Director, but now I sort of wish that she hadn’t been appointed. Maybe she would have calmed down as a defense attorney.”

“Somehow I doubt it. I don’t think that is who Sae is, but you know her better, of course. And the position is certainly helping with the Waseda tuition, right?”

Makoto started cutting tomatoes. “Yes, but that’s a pretty selfish thought.”

“A family is like a team. It’s okay to think about the shared benefits.”

“I suppose,” Makoto’s knife stopped. “Though I did have another sort of selfish thought.”

“Yeah?”

“What if we set her up with someone?”

“What? She would never agree to that.”

“I know, but…” Makoto looked at Ren, her eyes dancing with excitement, “What if we do it secretly? Like in the romantic movies: we figure out someone she might like and conspire to bring them together.”

Ren’s initial instinct was to say no. He meddled in his friend’s lives all the time, but romance was not an area he was eager to trespass. Yet Makoto looked so eager and enthusiastic about this, his heart wouldn’t let him do anything but support it.

“Sounds fun. Do you have anyone in mind?”

Makoto’s face brightened, then fell. “No, I was hoping you would know someone. You know so many people.”

Ren did know quite a few people, but that grouping wasn’t growing much these days. Otohime was the newest addition. And a lot of the people he knew were women.

“Sae is into men, right?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

Well, of the males that Ren knew, there was Mishima and Shinya, but they were way, way too young. And then there was Yoshida, but he was too old. And Ren thought he was married anyway. There was Sojiro, but he was old, too, and that match didn’t seem likely. Sojiro and Sae already knew each other, so if something could happen, it would have already happened between them. So that left… Iwai.

“The only one I can think of is Munehisa Iwai.”

“The airsoft shop man?”

“Yeah.”

Makoto’s face turned thoughtful. “He’s older, but not that much older. And he’s very handsome. He has this rugged, dangerous look that makes me-” She looked over at Ren. “Oh, well, I mean… I think Sae could be attracted to him maybe.”

Ren couldn’t think of anything to say. His mind was digging itself out of the ruins of a major misconception: that he was the only man Makoto found attractive. It seemed foolish now, but he’d apparently really believed that. It was definitely time to get back to the gym with Ryuji.

“Ren?”

“Yeah, I mean, I guess if you think there is a possibility. You know Sae better than I do.”

“I think it’s worth a try. We just need to get them into the same place together and introduce them.”

“Without them realizing it?”

“Yeah! Just like in the movies.”

Ren supposed it was would be fun to plan an adventure that didn’t involve life and death danger. It could be relaxing. And with Makoto so enthusiastic about it, he couldn’t really say no.

“Okay, let’s do it. What do you think-”

The sound of a key turning in the door stopped him. Niijima Sae was home.


	11. Chapter 11

Ren supposed it would be fun to plan an adventure that didn’t involve life and death danger. It could be relaxing. And with Makoto so enthusiastic about it, he couldn’t really say no. They could try and play matchmaker for her sister.

“Okay, let’s do it. What do you think-”

The sound of a key turning in the door stopped him. Niijima Sae was home.

“-about this rice?” Ren finished as Sae opened the door. “I think it’s about done.’

“Welcome home, Sae,” said Makoto.

“Good evening,” said Sae in the crisp, formal tone she used for press conferences. Her silver hair and suit was pristine as always, and Ren noted she didn’t look as tired as she did last year. She glanced from Ren and Makoto to the half-set dining table. Her voice switched to its more casual, human state: “Is that fried chicken?”

“Yes. Karaage,” said Makoto as she brought the beans to the table. “Let’s eat.”

“Excellent. I don’t think I’ve eaten this in years.”

They sat around the table, Sae taking the head, with Ren and Makoto to either side.

“Rice, Ms. Niijima?”

“Thank you.”

“How was work, sis?”

“Oh, fine. Is this one chili flavor?”

“Yes. The other is cheese.”

Sae bit into a piece of the spicy chicken. She chewed for a moment, seeming pensive. Then she laughed.

“What?” said Ren.

“Oh, I was just thinking of a time when Makoto and I ate karaage with our father.”

“Father!” blurted Makoto.

Sae gave Makoto a surprised look. “Yes. You may have been too young to remember, but Father took us to a karaage restaurant. He ordered the extra spicy option for himself and warned you about it. But you watched him eat one, and then ate one yourself.” Sae paused, her eyes glazed over briefly, and she laughed again. “Your face went completely red, Makoto. And you howled!”

“How old was I?”

“Let’s see. Maybe four? Five? Something like that.”

“Oh. I guess that’s why I don’t remember… what did Father do?”

“He bought you an ice cream dessert. That seemed to calm you down.”

Makoto suddenly stiffened in her chair. “A bowl of soft-serve!”

‘Yes, I think that’s right.”

“And I remember- as I ate- I held the ice cream in my mouth and that stopped the burning. Father was rubbing my back. And he said: ‘That’s why you should always listen to adults’... I totally forgot that day until now.”

Makoto stared off into space, her food forgotten. Sae and Ren watched her and took bites of their own meals. The memory was clearly having an effect on Makoto.

“What was your dad like, Sae?” said Ren.

Sae’s crimson eyes flicked from her sister over to Ren. She frowned in consideration, took a moderate chunk of rice with her chopsticks and chewed it thoughtfully. Ren took a bite while he waited.

“Looking back on it… I’d say he was a loving man, but tense,” Sae’s voice had a sort of clinical tone to it. “He tried to hide it, but his work affected him. When his cases were going well, he was relaxed and… fun. But when they were going poorly- he was… business-like. He would go around the house and accomplish all that he could as fast as he could, as if to wipe his to-do list clean. He could be warm one day and cold the next.”

“Sae! That’s not how it was at all!” said Makoto.

Sae’s eyes flashed back to Makoto. “Maybe not for you!”

Makoto’s head flinched backwards slightly. Her eyes wide at Sae’s sudden sharp tone.

Sae sighed, and rubbed her forehead. “Sorry.” Then she laughed ruefully. “Actually, that’s a good example. I just behaved like Him… But Makoto, you had a different relationship with Father. You were his daughter...” Sae’s eyes wandered the room, as if she was searching for something. “ I was… I was his kohai.”

“Oh...” said Makoto.

Ren decided to remain tactfully silent. He didn’t want to wander between two siblings and their memories of their parents. But hearing the two perspectives was interesting. It was giving him an inkling of the homelife which created Makoto and her sister.

“But it’s odd to be talking so much about Father today,” said Sae, “I had a dream about him just last night.”

“W-w-hat!” said Makoto. “Really?!”

“Yes. I fell asleep in my office and dreamed he was sitting in the chair in front of my desk.”

Makoto turned her head to give Ren a wide-eyed look. The message was clear: Makoto didn’t think it was a dream. She turned back to Sae. “D-did he say anything?”

Sae chewed thoughtfully. Swallowed. “He said it was going to get bad and I was going to be busy.”

“Busy?”

“Yes. As if my subconscious needed to remind me... I’m always busy. Makoto, why are you so pale?”

“I saw Father last night, too!”

“What? Where?”

“In the kitchen!”

Sae turned to look into the kitchen. “Did he say anything to you?”

“Uh-. No.. he didn’t say anything. He just kind of looked at me and smiled.”

“Huh,” said Sae as she turned back to her meal. “Well, it’s a weird coincidence.”

“Yes,” said Makoto as she glanced back at Ren, her voice full of worry.

 

* * *

 

After dinner, Sae went to her room- leaving Ren and Makoto to clean up the dishes and the kitchen. The apartment was certainly large by Tokyo standards, but still too small to speak candidly in the public space. They worked in quiet urgency and then shut themselves in Makoto’s bedroom on the other side of the apartment. The distance and the closed door were more likely to give them privacy.

Makoto’s room was an orderly place. A precisely made bed was in the corner near the window. The window-sill held three picture frames- one of her parents holding her as a baby, with a very young Sae near their legs- another photo of the Phantom Thieves after Ren was released from juvenile detention- and finally the photo they took together in Hawaii, way back near the beginning of Them.

Across from her bed was a tidy desk, mostly bare and awaiting the laptop and study materials from Makoto’s backpack. The only item on the wooden surface was the motorcycle figurine Ren gave her last year. Next to the desk: a lamp; and beyond that: a waist-high bookshelf full of reference materials.

The bedroom walls featured posters at precise, symmetrical intervals- most of them were either motivational quotes or seemed to be old training materials from a police academy. One showed a policeman and policewoman jogging, and it advised that victory comes from a fit body. Another poster showed a group of cadets doing some sort of intense training drill and read: nanakorobi yaoki. The single outlier was the dated and faded poster over the head of Makoto’s bed- it was a cartoon panda reminiscent of Makoto’s favorite pencil case.

“I don’t think Sae’s dream was a dream,” said Makoto.

“Yeah,” said Ren as he sat down on the edge of Makoto’s bed. He’d spent plenty of nights here and the small desk chair filled up most of the floorspace when it wasn’t under the desk. Makoto sat down next to him.

“I don’t think we can ignore this, Ren. Maybe you seeing Akechi and me seeing my Father could be attributed to… I don’t know- our history? The Mountain Top? But with Sae seeing Father, too…? Something is happening, and it must be related to what happened to last year.”

“It might not be…” said Ren. He flashed a broad smile at Makoto. “It might be related to some other group of people with supernatural powers who killed a god. Right?’

Makoto gave him an exasperated look. She was obviously getting into calculation mode. “Akechi said something was leaking… and Sae said my Father told her that things were going to get ‘bad’... and kids at Shujin are having lots of nightmares...”

Ren waited for her while her mind churned. After a few moments, she sighed. “I don’t know where to start based on that. All I can think of are plots of dumb movies. We don’t have enough information.” She yawned. “And I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Neither of us did.” Ren heard Morgana’s voice in his mind, telling him to go to sleep. “Shall we get some sleep?”

Makoto nodded and went to the bathroom to prepare. Ren took out some sleepwear from his clothing stash in Makoto’s closet and readied himself after she returned. He came back to the room and found her reading in bed. She set the book aside and Ren switched off the light before climbing into bed next to her. It was warm in the room, so she was just in her underwear. The feeling of her bare legs against his own sent excitement tingling up from Ren’s groin to his back. He turned over onto Makoto’s side and kissed her. Her lips responded, one of her hands going to the back of his head.

Taking that as a positive signal, Ren pressed in for more- his lips pressing intensely into her softness, his left hand beginning to rove her body’s enticing firmness. He was quickly becoming erect.

“Ren…” mumbled Makoto between kisses. “Ren… stop.”

Ren froze, then pulled back with a little bit of surprise. They both were enthusiastic about sex, so it was rare that one of them would decline the act.

“Sorry,” Ren said, settling back onto his back.

“No- no, I’m sorry, Ren. It’s just-”

“You never need to apologize for not wanting to, Makoto.”

“I know! Let me finish! It’s- it’s just that- Well, Father was in the kitchen last night. What if- what if he comes into my room tonight? While we’re…? You know…?”

“Oh.”


	12. Chapter 12

“GO-RUUUUU! Honda Keisuke scores a magnificent goal!”

The roar of a sports crowd drew Ryuji from sleep; slowly, begrudgingly.

“GO-RUUUUU! Honda-”

Ryuji snagged his phone and hit the snooze button, eyes still closed. Did he really need to get up already? What day is it? Thursday? Yeah, that sounds right. It’s Thursday. What time? Ugh. Mom would be home in thirty minutes. He needed to get breakfast ready.

He groaned to himself and sat up, blearily blinking at the early morning light outside his bedroom window. Ryuji’s mind was pinging at him. He was forgetting something. Something about today. Ryuji looked at the calendar on his wall corkboard. Thursday. Thursday the… 16th.

Haru was written on that day, circled and given an exclamation point.

Oh, yeah! It’s the trampoline park thing today! Ryuji felt his morning grogginess dissipate like fog under the sun. He sprang out of bed, immediately hearing the tune to an anime he couldn’t quite remember. The song was catchy though, so he hummed his way to the kitchen, started the rice cooker and preheated the small fish griller. He could shower while those things worked without him.

Halfway to the bathroom, Ryuji froze. He had some worksheets due in second period today. Fuck! He’d gone to the grocery, made mom’s lunch and his own dinner, and done the laundry last night. And he had to have breakfast ready for mom this morning. There wasn’t time to get the homework done. He’d just have to try and get it done at school. Oh, well. He’d done that plenty of times before.

But he could probably get a bit done during breakfast if he showered quickly. So Ryuji blazed through his morning routine and was just finishing getting dressed when his mother walked in the front door. Ryuji headed for the kitchen to greet her and get the fish started.

“Morning, mom.”

“Hello, Ryuji,” said Sakamoto Aiko, a gaunt woman dressed in stained medical scrubs. Her face held the aura of time-worn beauty. She smiled at her son, and the wrinkles of age and fatigue lifted from her face, revealing the woman Ryuji knew best. She sat down at the dining room table with a heavy sigh. Ryuji put a cup of tea down in front of her.

“Thank you.”

“Hard shift, mom?”

“Yes. It was a bad night. Several residents just wouldn’t sleep.”

“Any poop on the walls?”

“No, no. Mr. Kamamoto did that, but he passed away a few months ago.”

“Oh,” said Ryuji as he set down a bowl of rice and a grilled fish in front of his mother. He could never keep track of her dementia residents. Some seemed to last forever, others died quickly. Ryuji didn’t much like the place. It was full of ancient people who seemed to just sit in chairs and couches with their eyes closed or staring off into space. He didn’t know how mom could stand working there, but she seemed to get satisfaction out of it. Even when the residents were violent or practically insane.

“This fish is really good, Ryuji,” said Aiko. “Thank you.”

“Thanks. I found this fancy pink salt at the store. Thought it was worth a try.”

Aiko grunted appreciatively. Ryuji sat down to his own fish and stripped off a chunk of flesh with his chopsticks. It was good! The salt seemed to really bring out the flavor of the fish. And it would be good with…

“Oh! The miso!” he stood to get it ready, but his mother grabbed his arm.

“It’s fine, Ryuji. Rice and fish is enough. I have to change and get going. I took a morning shift at Lawsons.”

“Mom, that will be three shifts in a row!” said Ryuji as he sat back down. The dark spots under his mother’s eyes were as deep as he’d ever seen them. She was really behind on rest. “You need to sleep.”

“I have tonight off from the care home, so I have time to sleep,” she waved off his concern. “ I’ll be fine, Ryuji.”

“Let me do more hours at the gym, I can-”

“No! You need time for your studies, Ryuji. Absolutely not.”

“But I-”

“No, I said. And how are your grades?”

Ryuji leaned back in his chair and picked more flesh from his fish. “Uhh… they’re okay. I’m going to graduate. No problem.”

Aiko chewed on her food and glowered at Ryuji. He shrunk a little under her gaze, already knowing what was coming.

“I wish you would change your mind about college.”

Yep. There it was. “It’s a waste of time for me. I don’t have to go to college to make money.”

“You do to make good money! You want to be like me, Ryuji? Two jobs just to keep an apartment with food in it?”

“There are good jobs in the trades, mom. Construction and stuff And I’m gonna fight and-”

“Oh, not this cage fighting thing again…” Aiko rubbed her forehead and winced.

“Professional fighters make a lot of money, mom!”

“The famous ones! Do you know how many dreamers they destroyed on their way up?!”

“I know how to fight, mom!” Ryuji’s tone sounded offended, even to himself. He took a deep breath and tried to even his voice a bit. “Don’t worry. You’ll see.”

Aiko sighed deeply and rubbed her forehead with her left hand. “Oh, Ryuji. You sound like your father...”

A sudden burst of anger blew through Ryuji’s mind like a hot wind. He shot up from the table, his chair skidding back on the kitchen floor. “I’m not gonna be some loser like him!”

“Ryuji!”

But Ryuji avoided looking at his mother. He didn’t want to see her face and be mad. Be like his dad! Fuck that! He snatched up his backpack and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Aiko gazed at the closed door, her memory replaying similar scenes of Ryuji’s father doing the exact same thing.

 

* * *

 

 

Ryuji lost himself in school, head down, frantically trying to get the next classes’ homework done in the time just before. He was practiced at recognizing problems that were too time consuming- he guessed on those, and spent what time he needed to answer the easy ones and the ones he thought he knew. He wouldn’t get the best grades, but he probably wouldn’t get failing grades, and that’s all that mattered. Pass/Fail. A ‘C’ meant the same thing as an ‘A’ as far as he was concerned. Graduate. Get a job. Graduate. Start fighting.

But at last bell, grades, school, work, and fighting all left his head. All he could think about was Haru. So he headed home immediately after school, not even stopping to greet Ren or Ann. It wasn’t totally unusual, as they often had their own schedules- but Ryuji felt a little guilty sneaking off to go to a trampoline park with Haru and her employees. He didn’t want anyone to get jealous, so best to avoid them and thus avoid any questions about what he was doing today.

After a semi-intense jog, he arrived at the subway station just before the train left, dodging most of the after-school rush. Nice! His home was only a few stops away, and Haru was going to be arriving at his place by four. He would have plenty of time to change and freshin’ up. Bit more pit stick. Bit more hair gel. He didn’t want Haru’s co-workers to think she had scrunchy friends.

Haru’s bright smile flashed through Ryuji’s mind.

Actually, he would have enough time for a full shower. And he would wear his new athletic outfit. Ryuji worked part-time at Protein Lovers, and half his paycheck went to his mom, and half went to whatever he wanted. When Haru invited him to this event, he immediately went out and bought a workout jersey and shorts. Royal purple with gold trim. The trim matched his hair and looked fucking slick.

And Haru liked purple.

When the subway finally stopped, Ryuji was the first one off. He’d been waiting all week for this and now it was finally time! He’d even practiced a bit at Protein Lovers. They had some small trampolines for weird workout classes, but it gave him the feel for what muscles to use to get maximum bounce. Not that any of the office clowns that Haru worked with stood a chance, but Ryuji knew Haru was gonna bounce. And damn, he was excited to see what she could do.

The first time Haru revealed herself to the Phantom Thieves, she’d front flipped off a twelve-foot storage rack. And there were all the shadows she totally slaughtered in the Metaverse. And the elephant-man shadow in Otohime’s Palace: Haru had stood her ground like a fucking champ. And shot a dragon’s eye clean out!

Fuck yea, Haru is badass! If she thought he was the athletic person to show off on the trampolines, Ryuji intended to deliver. Though, come to think of it, why did Haru want to do that anyway? She was the CEO of a huge company, and she was taking office workers to a trampoline park- a place most commonly frequented by young children…?

Well, Ryuji didn’t know much about corporate life, and people on TV sometimes go to corporate events. It must happen in real life, too. And Haru was much younger than most company leaders, so she would have cooler ideas. And who cares? Haru wanted Ryuji to bounce, so he was gonna’ bounce!

The apartment was empty when Ryuji arrived. Mom would be finishing up her second job in a couple of hours and then she would come home to sleep. After an overnight into an extra shift, she would probably sleep for ten hours or so. She would be tired this week. More so than usual.

Ryuji showered, gelled his hair just right, and dressed into his new workout gear. The rich, dark purple of the athletic shorts and tank-top shimmered in the light. Yeah, this stuff was a good buy.

The doorbell rang. Ryuji’s heart jumped into his throat.

Whoa! What was that? He was just hanging out with a friend, so why was he feeling this weird anxiety? This was how he’d felt at the beginning of his date with Kioko back in Matsuzaki. But this wasn’t a date. This was Haru. A friend. And some trampolines with salarymen.

Still shaking off the tension, Ryuji walked quickly to the front door. He opened it and then his heart jumped into his throat again. Haru was beaming at him in her own athletic outfit. A brilliant aquamarine windbreaker and baggy hot-pants over orange-gold leggings. The contrasting colors were vibrant, which seemed to enhance Haru’s purple eyes and brown-orange hair.

“Hey, Ryuji! Wow, cool colors!”

“Ye- yeah! Uh- cool colors you- uh- too. I mean- your clothes look sick!”

Haru giggled. “I couldn’t resist.” She spun around, her curls flowing out from her head like a skirt. “But do you think it’s too much? I’m supposed to be a CEO, after all.”

“Hell, no! Leaders gotta stand out, right?” Ryuji looked Haru up and down, since she’d asked. The colors worked in that Haru way, and the baggy nature of the light coat and shorts didn’t reveal too much of Haru’s figure- but Ryuji had been around her more than enough to know that a lithe figure hid under Haru’s generally puffy and conservative clothing choices. But there was no hiding those legs, and why would she want to? “Its- its-” said Ryuji, haltingly. “You! ”

“Not too girly?”

“Not at all.”

“Great! Well- Let’s go!”

Ryuji followed Haru back down the stairwell and into a waiting car. Not a limousine this time, but a sedan with more than enough luxury. A driver was waiting for them, as well as a passenger: a salt-and-pepper-haired man with a serious look on his face. Haru and Ryuji settled into the leather seats in the rear.

“Mr. Hano, to the Flying Squirrel Trampoline Park, please.”

“Yes, Ms. Okumura.” The car started moving.

“Mr. Takakura, Mr. Hano: this is my close friend, Sakamoto Ryuji.”

Ryuji saw the driver look at him through the rearview mirror and nod slightly. The older man in the side seat turned around and gave him a closer inspection.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Sakamoto.” said Mr. Takakura.

“Hey,” said Ryuji. “Uh- I mean: it’s nice to meet you, too, Mr. Takakura.”

Takakura arched an eyebrow, then turned back around in his seat. Ryuji realized he fumbled that first impression, not that he was going to win any points with these kinds of people dressed as he was. Haru might appreciate baller clothing, but she wasn’t the corporate type. Well, she was, but only when she wanted to be. Haru was like two people… as all the Phantom Thieves kinda were, now that Ryuji thought about it.

He turned to Haru. “So, what’s with the trampoline stuff?”

Haru smiled and opened her mouth to speak, but Mr. Takakura spoke up first from the front seat.

“I’m interested in the answer, as well.”

Haru blushed.

Oops. Ryuji wondered why that was a bad question to ask.

“W-well!” said Haru, turning away from Ryuji to face the front of the car. Her blush faded quickly. “It’s for team building. Like I told you, Mr. Takakura.”

“But the executive assistants don’t work together. They work in the offices of the individual board members.”

“Yes, Mr. Takakura. But the members of the board need to coordinate with another, and they do that through their executive assistants.” Haru’s eyes drifted from Mr. Takakura to Ryuji and back. “So the assistants would benefit from a sense of camaraderie. It will help smooth communication and interaction amongst the executive staff.”

A long silence. Ryuji felt the need to say something.

“Sounds cool to me, Haru,” said Ryuji. “If people are friendly with each other, they work better together. Everyone knows that.”

“Exactly!” beamed Haru.

“But why attend yourself, Ms. Okumura? Hopping around like a child with the younger employees? It doesn’t seem... dignified. Your father-”

“I’m not my father, Mr. Takakura!” said Haru, her voice going sharp and angry. “If you don’t approve of this event, you are free to return to the office in a taxi.”

Whoa! Haru was pissed! Who was this guy? This old man was digging himself a hole.

Mr. Takakura cleared his throat. “I apologize. But I would prefer to remain in attendance.”

“Very well, Mr. Takakura!”

An awkward silence fell in the car. Ryuji watched an irritated Haru calm herself. He didn’t often see Haru get mad- passionate sometimes at meetings, but not mad like this. It was kind of cool- like an anime character who suddenly transformed in certain situations. It was interesting. Exciting.

Haru turned her head back towards him, seeming to feel his gaze.He beamed a big smile at her and then silently mouthed the word: daaaaaang! Haru’s serious face brightened into a sudden smile, transforming her back into the Haru who Ryuji knew best. She raised her hands to her mouth to stifle laughter.

“So, what all are we gonna do there?” asked Ryuji.

“Well, the staff there are going to lead us all through some drills and games to start off. Then there is going to be some free time for about an hour, and then some contests before dinner.”

“Sounds cool. And what do you want me to do?”

“Just be you! Be enthusiastic and break the ice. It can be hard to get people to relax when I’m around, but if I’m with you, they might feel its all… less formal. Which I want.”

“Cool. Are you gonna bust out some beauty thief moves?”

Haru’s eyes went wide. Why was that? Oh! Beauty thief was a Phantom Thieves thing! Shit! Not that anyone else would know who the beauty thief was, but it probably sounded weird to the employees in the front seat.

Haru laughed nervously. “Oh, you mean from that anime I like to watch?”

“Er, yeah! That one with the… girls!”

“We’ll see. They do some amazing things. I don’t know if I can do that kind of stuff.”

What? Was she planning on half-assing this? Did she want to hide her athletic side from her employees? No way! “Psshh! I know you can, Haru. You’re not going to fool me with that soft voice. That may work on these guys, but not me!”

Haru opened her mouth to respond, but this time the driver spoke first:

“Ms. Okumura? We’re here.”


	13. Chapter 13

Haru had forgotten the trampoline park was so close to Ryuji’s home. She was thankful for that, as getting out of the car gave her a brief moment to recollect herself. Ryuji’s innocent questions had come way too close to Haru’s guilty secret: this whole enterprise was just designed to get him here. Haru was utilizing company time and resources to create this event for her own selfish designs. Mr. Takakura already seemed suspicious, and he had been since Haru first called him earlier this week to set it up. Why, Ms. Okumura? Why?

Why indeed? Wasn’t she being silly? Why not just ask Ryuji on a date? Haru felt guilt seep through her heart, dragging at her fixed smile and threatening to scrunch her brow. She had a large forehead- like a billboard for her emotions if she wasn’t careful. It was a struggle to keep her brows in a proper position.

“Hey, cool place!” said Ryuji, coming to stand next to her.

Haru felt even more guilty with him standing next to her. Ryuji’s warm, brown eyes were flickering back and forth over the building before them. His sharp face was eager and cheerful- it was these moments that he was the most handsome. A flush of affection and attraction welled up in Haru to push off the guilt. What would Ryuji say about what she was really feeling? Well… she could always just ask him. Ryuji didn’t usually pick up on logical ulterior motives- but he was sure to pick up on the self-doubt.

Haru opened her mouth to speak, froze a moment, then pushed herself over the edge: “I was just worried that maybe this is a misuse of the company’s resources.” 

Haru watched Ryuji’s reaction. His head jerked back slightly and his eyes narrowed. Ryuji’s brain was analyzing- no, not his brain, like Makoto- but analyzing with his heart. Ryuji… felt his way through.

Ryuji’s thoughtful look turned to Haru, his brown eyes widening in mild surprise. “What? It’s your company, Haru.. You run it. AND you own it.” He smiled broadly, a somewhat mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “You can do whatever you want.”

Haru felt her cheeks warm up and she looked away from Ryuji. She ran it. She owned it. Possession was a sort of emotional thing, that was true enough. But it was a big thing! Haru felt embarrassed by it. “But my father and his employees built it. I just have it because I’m his daughter.”

“Just because?! Haru- so what! Do you regret being his daughter?”

A spike of indignation flashed through Haru. “Of course not!”

But Ryuji benevolently laughed at her tone. “Exactly! So what’s the problem? The company was your dad’s. It’s yours now. That’s the way it works! It’s not your fault, and it’s not your fault Okumura was your dad. So it’s your company, your property- you can do what you want. Anybody who thinks otherwise is a dumbass.”

Well- Haru thought it was more complex than that. The company wasn’t just a car or a house- it was also the livelihood of thousands of other people. She couldn’t just forsake all of them and act with wanton selfishness. But still- the spirit of what Ryuji was saying felt correct: it wasn’t her fault that she led this company. And she shouldn’t feel guilty for it. One little evening at a trampoline park was an infinitesimal expense against the profits the company brought in on a monthly basis. There was no reason to feel guilty for it.

“I guess you’re right,” said Haru, ‘and it’s already paid for, so we might as well enjoy it.”

“Hell yeah!”

Haru led the way towards the building- Ryuji at her side, and the driver and Mr. Takakura following. She wasn’t out in front alone- her heart thumped a little as Ryuji’s eager grin remained on the edge of her peripheral vision. It was like the old days- when they went into battle together, side-by-side. It felt good. Then an image of the park’s brochure flashed through her mind: a trampoline and basketball hoop. And Ryuji liked manga…

“Ryuji, they have a basketball hoop, too. So we can be like the Slam Dunk manga.”

Ryuji turned towards her again, that eager grin bursting into that familiar open-mouthed smile. “For real!? I’m gonna be Sakuragi!” 

“Hmm… yes, I suppose you are…”

The driver walked quickly ahead to open the door ahead of them, abruptly reminding Haru of her role in the imminent event. She was going to have to simultaneously be Ryuji’s friend (and hopeful more-than) and Ms. Okumura, C.E.O. She hadn’t thought about it before… but this would be the first time one of the Phantom Thieves saw her while she was in an official capacity. It would be the first merging of Haru’s two worlds- the revealing of her other self to both sides of her life. The vanished guilt was replaced by anxiety. Maybe this was a bad idea.

They entered the building. A group of seven young professionals was loitering in the lobby- most of them wearing athletic clothing that looked recently purchased. Okumura Foods maintained a minimalist board of seven people. Theoretically, the board had true control of a company and power over the CEO- they being the driving force of a publicly-traded company’s stewardship. Such groups were generally able to hire and fire CEOs- though Haru was in a different position than the usual. 

Like politicians, the board represented the votes of the shareholders. However, Haru’s father had maintained ownership of 60% of the shares, which Haru now controlled- so, she was both CEO and the company’s voting majority. Haru didn’t like to think about it, but her power over Okumura foods was absolute within the realms of the law. It was a worrisome amount of power. And most worrisome: her power over the careers of these seven people, plus Mr. Takakura and her driver. All of them, to a person, five years her senior or more. That alone was a daunting prospect in a society that emphasized seniority in so many facets of life.

Haru paused before her employees, accepting their bows and greetings and returning them in automatic movements and phrases. She felt their eyes on her; Mr. Takakura’s eyes; Ryuji’s eyes. A small introduction was in order, but Haru had nothing to segway into. A greeting speech without a segway always ended awkwardly. But a trampoline park employee was hurrying over- perfect timing!

The park employee was a lean young woman in a tracksuit. She hurried towards Haru’s smaller group, her eyes quickly sizing up the party. She then bowed to Mr. Takakura.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Okumura. I’m Endo Ai, and I will be your party’s facilitator today.”

Oh my, the poor woman, thought Haru. 

This was becoming a less common mistake, but with Haru being in bright athletic clothing, there was no wonder she would not be immediately identified as the highest-ranking person in the group.

Mr. Takakura returned a very small nod of the head. “Thank you, Ms. Endo. But I am not Ms. Okumura.” He extended a hand towards Haru. “This is our CEO, Ms. Okumura Haru.”

Ms. Endo turned a very red face towards Haru- her eyes wide in embarrassment. She bowed deeply. “I’m very sorry, Ms. Okumura. As I said, I am Endo Ai, and I’ll be your facilitator.”

Haru felt sympathy towards the young woman. There were few corporations led by women, and none of them led by women as young as Haru- only one year out of high school. It was an embarrassing start to the event, but it was up to Haru to trivialize it. And trivial it was, in Haru’s estimation. Perfectly reasonable.

“It’s all right, Ms. Endo. I was just about to address everyone with a short greeting and then defer to your program. Is that all right?”

“Of course, Ms, Okumura! Please go right ahead!”

Haru turned her attention to the gathered administrative assistants. Their eyes were already on her, having silently witnessed the short exchange with the park employee. Haru smiled her office smile and bowed shallowly again to start off her short announcement.

“Thank you all for coming this evening. I asked you here because all of you have an essential role in Okumura Foods. Each of you is responsible for the smooth operation of a board member’s office, as well as their communications and schedules. Without your efforts, the leadership of our company would be paralyzed when the varied individual responsibilities of the board conflict with their shared meetings and projects. Those endless knots are untangled by all of you.’

“Foremost, I wanted to express gratitude,” Haru bowed slightly again, “And I simultaneously wanted to further enhance the efficient operation of our office. You all work with one another in an official capacity, if indirectly, multiple times a day. The needs of your own offices often coming into conflict with those of another. I’m aware that communications… while remaining elaborately formal and professional… can become both numerous and intense when there is a simultaneous need for certain company resources. It’s a natural occurrence, but it is inefficient- and most importantly, unnecessarily stressful.’

“I think frank and candid communication can smooth these conflicts and remove the need for excessive um-... tip-toeing. But it can also be hard to do in our culture, especially in such a formal setting as an office. Frankness is often reserved for family, friends, and close comrades. And so, I wish to foster camaraderie amongst all of you. So, I’ve brought you here- to a place you’ve all probably never been, to experience something that’s likely new- in the hopes that a shared experience will create bonds amongst you all.”  
Was that everything Haru wanted to say? She’d been over this speech a few times last night. The administrative assistants seemed appropriately attentive, though that was to be expected. She needed to finish up before she could look at Mr. Takakura or Ryuji. 

“So- I will turn over the leadership of this activity to- um… Ms. Endo. Please kindly attempt all that she suggests for us- and keep in mind that trampolines tend to make a lack of enthusiasm readily apparent… Ms. Endo?”

The young employee bowed. “Yes, Ms. Okumura. Hello everyone, I am Endo Ai. I’ll be leading you all through some exercises and team-building activities today! Follow me and we will get everyone into our trampoline socks!”

Haru felt relief in having that done. None of the assistants seemed suspicious of her motives for this company event. She carefully kept her neutral smile in place as she turned back to Mr. Takakura. He seemed to have a vaguely thoughtful look on his face, which Haru took to mean her little speech had perhaps reduced some of the man’s doubts.

Ryuji was looking at her with a blank face. What was he thinking? She moved closer to him and he smiled sheepishly. 

“Ryuji?”

“Oh, uh-” Ryuji rubbed the back of his head, a sign he was a little embarrassed. “What was that all about?”

“Um- I want them to be more like friends, so they work better together.”

“Oh! Yeah- totally! And I’m supposed to help them become friends?”

Ryuji was tiptoeing around the secret motive again. He must still be sensing something or other. Like a fish looking at hooked bait with an easy eye. A suspicious carp, just like Ms. Otohime said. What to do? Maybe she was taking Otohime’s words a little too seriously. Why not tell Ryuji the truth? Because he would be too embarrassed and off-balance to enjoy today! And that would ruin everything! But she couldn’t just lie over and over… so… maybe just a little bit of the truth... 

Haru moved close to Ryuji, his eyes going wide as her face neared his own. 

“Not exactly,” she said softly, “I need to hop around and have fun today, too- as an example to them of what I want them to do. I have fun with you, so that’s why you’re here. To help me have fun.”

Ryuji blinked a few times, then his face grew his usual eager grin. “You got it!”


	14. Chapter 14

Ryuji stayed near Haru as the park staff member led the group through some basic stretching and warm-ups, then Ms. Endo led the office group over to the main trampoline field. Large, square trampolines were symmetrically aligned in the floor. Between each section was some padding to protect errant bouncers- giving this section of the gym a checkerboard appearance.

Ms. Endo stepped out onto the nearest trampoline and bounced easily. “Okay, let’s bounce around this room a few times! It takes a little while for your bodies to remember what trampolines are like, but you’ll get the hang of it quickly. Come on!”

She hopped easily away, effortlessly clearing the first padded gap in the floor, bouncing once on the next trampoline square, and then clearing the next gap with another jump. On the third trampoline, she bounced in place and turned, finding all of Haru’s group hesitating on the edge of the gym. 

Ryuji saw Haru look at him out of the corner of his eye. Oh, right! This was why he was here. He needed to get things going- he would bounce all the way over the next trampoline easy. Ryuji flexed his legs, preparing to jump.

Ack! Wait! No, I’m not here to show everyone up! I just gotta do the basics!

Ryuji lessened the tension in his legs and hopped onto the first trampoline, using his ankles to bounce lightly across and then over the gap. Ms. Endo bounced onwards as Ryuji approached, so he immediately bounced into her old spot. Now he turned, and found Haru already bouncing into his square, her eyes sparkling over a mischievous grin as she landed, driving the trampoline down as Ryuji was coming down onto it. The bad timing jarred his legs into collapsing as Haru bounced past, laughing. 

“Oh, nice!” said Ryuji as he steadied himself on the undulating surface. He saw the first of Haru’s employees step out onto the first trampoline. Good! Momentum would pull the rest of the pack after them. Ryuji’s mission was accomplished easily enough- for this activity at least. He turned and hopped after Haru, her brown-orange hair bouncing lightly before him. 

Ms. Endo led them around the edge of the gym twice. All of the office workers were red in the face and starting to shine with a layer of sweat. Ryuji understood what they were feeling. Jumping on trampolines was surprisingly strenuous- like swimming: it used muscles that were often forgotten. Some of the administrative assistants seemed ready for a break, but Ms. Endo immediately set them into a new activity- team jumping; Then, into a game that involved an imaginary minefield.

After that, Haru’s employees were all drenched in sweat and looking uncomfortable. Ms. Endo called a break. Ryuji was barely winded, still breathing lightly. His legs and core were starting to feel worked- it felt good. He was in the middle of a good workout and didn’t want to lose his momentum. As Haru dismissed the group to rest for the next twenty minutes, Ryuji searched the room. There were several activity areas: a rock wall; a sort of deep-well trampoline for serious tricksters; a balance beam and swings over foam-block pits… and a basketball hoop at the end of a long trampoline.

He tapped on Haru’s shoulder as she took a drink of water- she gulped and turned to him- her violet eyes bright over her flushed cheeks. 

“Hey, Haru,” said Ryuji, “Is it time to Slam Dunk?” He pointed to the distant basketball hoop.

Haru’s eyes flickered to where he was pointing, then back to her retreating workforce. “Mmm, yes I think they are going to need some time.”

“Awesome!”

They walked on the solid area of the gym to reach the basketball area. A single ball lay waiting on the black material of the trampoline. Ryuji snatched it up and tried bouncing it off the trampoline floor. The ball jumped amusingly high. He caught it, then looked at Haru. She was looking back towards the waiting area where her employees were slouched on chairs- most seemed a little listless and were clutching their water bottles. 

“How’s it going so far?” he asked her.

“Umm- I’m not sure. Most of them looked like they had fun during the last game, but-...” Her face looked tense and worried, like she used to look when thinking about her father. Back before his Palace. Back before-... well, before a lot.

Ryuji didn’t want Haru to look like that. He liked it when she was smiling. “Well!” he said, bouncing the ball forcefully, “There’s nothing to be done but be here and enjoy as we can, right? So- you can watch me do an amazing dunk right now- and then wish you could do something even half as cool.” He snatched the ball from the air and spun it for a very brief moment on the tip of his finger.

Haru’s face brightened and she giggled. “All right. I’m watching.”

Ryuji snatched up the ball, bounced his way down the long trampoline, and then jumped high into the air and stuffed the ball into the hoop with two hands. He bounced back to a smiling Haru. 

“Game over! Shohoku wins!”

“That was good, Ryuji!” said Haru, smiling brightly. Then her eyes half-lidded and Noir snatched the ball from Ryuji’s hands. She gave him a confident smirk. “But pretty basic. Watch this.”

Ryuji watched Haru bound down the trampoline lane, toss the ball up to bounce off the backboard, and then leap into the air, meeting the ball again and slamming it into the hoop. She landed into a graceful bounce and skipped back down the lane to where Ryuji was watching.

“How was that?” she asked.

“Good!... For a beginner! Gimmie that ball. It’s on, Haru. It. Is. On!”

They went back and forth, over and over, gradually upping the difficulty of their dunks. But after five trades of so, it had gone on long enough. It was time to end this. Haru tossed him the ball after her double through-the-legs dunk, her face shining with a look of victory. But it wasn’t to be. Ryuji wasn’t about to let her win- CEO or not. It was time to go all out and end this.

“Time to watch yourself lose, Haru,” Ryuji said. 

Haru laughed as he bounced down the trampoline. He planted for the third and final bounce, curled himself forward into a front flip as he ascended, and- was too close to the hoop! He slammed the ball in, but too much of his arms caught the rim and he flipped backward.

Fuuuuuck! 

Ryuji landed face-first onto the trampoline, his back bending awkwardly as he twisted on impact. As soon as could, he hopped back up to his feet, his face burning from both embarrassment and the rough texture of the trampoline, he bounced back up- pasting a confident smile on his face. “Still counts! Front flip dunk for the win!” 

Haru had her hands over her mouth and was staring at him with wide eyes. It was genuine concern that Ryuji saw there, but that relaxed away as he bounded back down towards her. His back hurt, and his face was burning from a nasty trampoline abrasion- but Ryuji was pretty sure he kept himself from wincing.

“Are you okay, Ryuji?”

“Yeah! Totally fine! Let’s see you top that!” It wasn’t what he’d wanted for a finisher, but he’d still scored the basket. The game was his, for sure! No way she was going to follow that!

Haru’s eyes searched his for a moment, then the concern vanished from her face and she snatched the ball from him. She smiled that small, Noir smile again.

“Just watch how it’s done.”

Ryuji felt a chill in his spine as she bounded down the trampoline towards the hoop. She bounced three times, jumped high on the third, flipping forward once, twice, slamming the ball through and grabbing the rim. Her body swung down and forward, but she held onto the rim like a gymnast on a parallel bar. She waited for her momentum to carry back away from the rim, and then at the apex of the back-swing, let go of the rim into a backflip and then landed cleanly on the trampoline.

Haru turned her head back towards Ryuji, her curly hair whipping around, revealing half of her beautiful face. She gave him a victorious smile. 

Ryuji’s breath caught in his chest and his jaw hung open. His mind clicked.

That- that was amazing. And Haru is… she is…gorgeous! He’d always known she was pretty- he’d thought that before they’d even known she could go into the Metaverse last year. But- but she was a pretty girl who joined their group of friends. That’s all. But that wasn’t all now, was it? Haru was a beautiful, amazing… woman.

Before he could collect himself, a large chorus of cheers came from behind Ryuji. He turned- all of Haru’s staff was standing on the near edge of the gym, all of them with wide, surprised smiles. Apparently, Ryuji wasn’t the only one Haru had just blown away.


	15. Chapter 15

Ryuji’s head turned back towards Haru- she was blushing profusely from all the attention from her employees. The agile confidence which had infused her entire form during that acrobatic basketball dunk was gone. She was like a different person. Was this the Haru before she discovered her persona? It was similar to when Haru’s father had died, but somehow more… unsteady. It was like she thought what she just did was somehow wrong, and the attention she was getting for it some kind of crime or something. What the hell? How to change that?

Duh! Just tell her something good.

“Haru-” Ryuji’s voice faltered as her violet eyes snapped to his, her face still locked in sorrowful embarrassment. Something clicked in his mind again- Haru was beautiful when she smiled, but she was beautiful now.

Damnit! Snap out of it! Say something!

“Haru, you’re awesome,” he finally blurted- desperate to get something, anything, out of his mouth.

Ugh! So basic! So lame! That was really all I could come up with? What would Ren have said? Probably something a lot better than that!

But the dread weight of failure that began to rapidly descend on Ryuji was immediately dispelled by Haru’s immediate transformation: the sad cast of Haru’s expression vanished. And while she still retained a blush of embarrassment, Haru now gave him a sheepish smile under sparkling eyes.

Then some of the female assistants bounded over and surrounded Haru.

“I didn’t know you could do that, Ms. Okumura!”  
“That was incredible!”  
“How did you learn to do things like that!?”

Haru giggled sheepishly as she looked from woman to woman. “Um- well… I did gymnastics when I was younger…” But her eyes left them to look at Ryuji again.

“I knew it! Did you ever compete, Ms. Okumura?”

Before Haru could answer, their group leader returned and raised her hands in the air: “Okay, Okumura Foods! It’s time for our next activity! A balance-beam joust! Everyone head over this way to the foam pit!”

The curious assistants looked to the park employee, Ms. Endo, and then back to Ms. Okumura- a clear deference to their own authority hierarchy. Haru hesitated for only a brief moment, then nodded and said: “We’re ready, Ms. Endo.”

“Great! So this will be a one-on-one tournament,” Ms. Endo explained as the Okumura Party gathered around and followed her. She walked backward, animatedly explaining the next activity.

“A contest of skill, strength, and guile over a foam lava pit of death!”

Man, this place really is for kids, isn’t it? Ryuji’s eyes drifted from Ms. Endo and traveled over the trampoline park. The other areas were mostly occupied by children- little children… and their parents. A small group of teenagers was using the well-trampolines- probably the most technically advanced area of the park. A subtle screen of park employees wasushering children and parents from the area that the Okumura party was now taking over. Ryuji realized suddenly he’d fallen behind the main group- and then he felt a soft tug at his shirt sleeve.

Haru was still next to him. Her eyes were averted, and she was still blushing. “Ryuji- I-.. um…”

“Huh? Yeah?”

She looked at him briefly, then looked away, her blush intensifying. “I like-...” Then she looked at him fully, her expression one of determination. “I like that you’re here!’

She must have really thought he wouldn’t have wanted to come! Ryuji smiled broadly. “No problem, Haru! This trampoline stuff is fun! I like being here, too.”

Haru’s mouth opened slightly and a look of surprise crossed her face. Then, her brow furrowed and her mouth turned down in a frustrated frown. Ryuji was taken aback. Haru’s mood seemed to be bouncing all over the place. What about what he’d said could have upset her?

“Haru, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Haru snapped. Her own tone seemed to surprise her. She started walking towards her group of employees, dropping her volume and modulating her tone back to its normal state. “Let’s just join the others, Ryuji.”

Ryuji walked slowly after her. He wasn’t sure what had just happened- but he was very sure that Haru’s tone was not entirely genuine.

 

* * *

 

Haru was still fuming as she rejoined the rear of her own party. She was half frustrated at Ryuji for being so dense- but it was also her own fault, wasn’t it? Why couldn’t she just say it? It was a perfect moment. Just the two of them. After they’d shared… something. A moment? A connection? Whatever it was- something had happened behind Ryuji’s slack-jawed stare and astonished expression. Something important. Something that maybe could have been the catalyst- the final lure to get the carp on the hook.

She’d just needed to say it: “I like you.”

Simple. So very high-school. But- well, Ryuji was still in high school! And she'd only graduated a few months ago! So it was still the right thing to say, right?! But she didn’t. She’d shied away from it and instead said: “I like that you’re here.” It wasn’t that different. It should have given her away. But Ryuji… well, Ryuji was Ryuji. He didn’t see. He heard what she said, not what she meant,

Dang it! Why didn’t he get it? Ryuji could get so much- he felt things- like when he was the first to come rescue her and Morgana from her fiance in that alley. Or like how he knew to act the right kind of angry around Akechi during their big ruse. But this- whatever this was- he didn’t get it. He was just a dense, slow… carp!

“Ms. Okumura?”

Haru looked up to find Ms. Endo and all of her employees looking at her.

“Oh! Sorry?”

“Who should go first? The women or the men?”

Go first? Oh, they were talking about the silly game they were all about to play- the balance-beam duels. Women or men? Did it matter? Why was it her decision? Surely something so mundane didn’t need her input. But, well, they asked, and now she had to pick. Haru didn’t care at the moment, but she didn’t feel up to hitting anyone with a giant bean-bag weapon on a pole in front of her employees.

“The men,” said Haru, trying to infuse her voice with some playfulness she didn’t feel. If the men went, that delayed her own choice to participate. That was good enough for now.

Doubt and apathy were swirling strongly within her, despite the fact that this was THE moment. This was the activity that Haru had in mind when she first planned this entire outing. She’d specifically requested this faux tournament: The balance-beam duels. It was where she would set up her carp to fight on her behalf. All according to Otohime’s recipe for love. Otohime- a ruthless gangster of dangerous personality. Was she really a reliable source for this sort of thing? Haru’s doubts of her own plan resurfaced with a vengeance.

“All right! The men,” said Ms. Endo. “Who is first?”

Shibata raised his hand. He was the young assistant who’d asked Haru out on the elevator. Haru watched as Ms. Endo advised Shibata and his opponent of the rules of the game. That’s right. Young Mr. Shibata. His daring attempt to date her was the catalyst for this entire event.

Was it even that big of a deal? If not at that moment, when would a man in Shibata’s position ever have a chance to ask me out? Should I even have been angry? Am I unreasonable? And then I set this all up, for this very moment. This school-yard duel between the man I want and the man I don’t. It’s like a bad movie. Am-... am I crazy?

Haru felt a presence by her side. She looked to find Ryuji standing next to her. He was watching the first duel. Shibata and another office-worker were swiping at each other with their big bean-bags. The watching women were giggling with the awkwardness of it all, but the men seemed to be getting into the competition and were shouting encouragement to their personal favorite.

Haru’s eyes traced the profile of Ryuji’s face. He seemed concerned about something- probably her behavior, but as she watched him, his mouth slowly regained that eager grin he carried most places. He was interested in the faux combat, too. The look turned him into the handsome young man that ran to her rescue, that fought by her side, that jumped off flying spaceships and punched dragons in the face.

Thwack.

Haru looked back to the balance-beam arena just as Shibata’s opponent fell into the foam pit.

Shibata lifted his bean-bag weapon in triumph and the other employees cheered and laughed. Haru watched him as the next opponent stood to challenge Shibata as the king-of-the-hill match continued. Perhaps it wasn’t his fault but- Haru looked back at Ryuji. But- she’d come this far. Whether it was crazy, or bad, or what- in this low-stakes room of nylon-covered pads and foam squares- perhaps it was okay for her to be selfish- maybe even a bit villainous. Just a bit. Just to get her carp.

But if it was going to happen. She had to speak! She had to say what was on her mind. She had to get it right this time.

“Ryuji…” she said to him, quietly, so only he could hear.

Ryuji turned and raised his eyebrows at her. “Yeah, Haru?”

“That man. Shibata…”

“Yeah? What about him?”

“Um- he- he said some things to me in an elevator once. It made me feel really uncomfortable.”

Thwack.

Ryuji’s eyes widened at her, then his head whipped back to Shibata. He was again triumphant- his defeated opponent clumsily trying to swim through the foam square pit below the balance beam.

“For real?” said Ryuj, his voice a quiet whisper.

Ms. Endo clapped loudly. “Okay! Two opponents down! Who dares to take on the reigning men’s champion!”

Ryuji raised his hand. “I will.”

“Okay, we have a challenger!”

Ryuji flashed Haru a fierce look, then he headed towards Ms. Endo to receive his bean bag. Haru felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach. This was silly. This was childish. This was petty... This was working!

Ryuji took his position over the foam pit. His jaw was tight in a fierce grimace. Haru knew that look. That was the look he’d had Above the Clouds.

Sorry, Mr. Shibata, thought Haru. I don’t quite know what came over me.

Ms. Endo clapped her hands again. “Okay! Go!”

Ryuji and Shibata closed on one another, their bean bags coiled back like baseball bats.

THWACK!

The audience emitted a collective, wincing: “Ooooooohhhhh…”

“And we have a new champion!” said Ms. Endo. “Who will be the next challenger?... Anyone?... No one?... Come on, guys! Most of you haven’t even gone yet!”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: After a very busy holiday season at work, I'm trying to return to my previous writing schedule of, at-least, one major update a week. I've foolishly began too many projects, but I want to return my primary focus to this series as a way to reinvigorate my own writing. ((I still view "Between Sea and Stone" as my current best work))
> 
> For now, I wanted to cap off the Ryuji/Haru scene that's been on-going for a long time. So very short update right now, but I hope to have a much longer, plot-progressing update for this story ready to go for early next week.

* * *

 

“I’m still thinking about how Shibata fell off that balance beam,” said Haru as she ascended the narrow apartment stairs ahead of Ryuji. She giggled. “It was like his face was pulling the rest of him after it.”

“Uhh- yeah,” said Ryuji, who’d realized that Haru’s tight athletic shorts were right in front of him, and he was now trying his best to look anywhere else as they climbed up to his floor. And he was feeling a bit guilty for hitting Shibata so hard. Yes, it had been a pillow weapon. But it was still covered in nylon or whatever- it could hurt. It did hurt. It certainly sounded like it hurt.  
Ryuji had expected Haru to be mad at him, but when he’d looked back at her from his victorious perch on the balance beam- Haru’s eyes had been sparkling. And now she was enjoying the memory. Man, what had the Shibata guy done? Haru certainly had a dark side, but Ryuji hadn’t seen anyone bring it out like this in a while.

Haru arrived at Ryuji’s floor and she turned to face Ryuji as he finished his own ascent. Ryuji’s eyes locked on Haru’s and his mind emptied. All he could do was step up the last few steps like an automaton, his masculinity mesmerized by Haru’s smile, violet eyes, and lean body. And Haru didn’t move back to give him space at the landing, so Ryuji found himself very close to her.

She was looking up at him with an expression he couldn’t read. She was slightly biting her own lip in the corner of her mouth. He’d never seen her do that before. And the rounded shapes of Haru’s breasts were almost touching his chest. Ryuji was keenly aware of them. He felt hot. Uneasy. Turned-on. His groin was stirring, heralding the imminent arrival of an embarrassing growth. He shouldn’t be feeling these things near Haru! About Haru!

“Oh, uh, this is my door over here,” He stepped awkwardly around her, trying desperately to keep from touching her. “Thanks for the invite, Haru.”

He sensed a surge of negative energy. Ryuji turned back to find Haru with a new strange expression: anger, embarrassment, and frustration- all under the cover of a faltering smile.

“Yeah, Ryuji. It was fun,” she said, her violet eyes flashing. Then she spun, tossing her curled hair about her head, and she descended the apartment stairs out his view.

She was mad. Ryuji felt it was his fault. But… he had no idea what he’d done wrong! Had she somehow sensed what was going on inside him? He turned to his apartment door and smacked his own forehead into it.

Whatever just happened, he’d done it wrong. Ryuji was sure of it.


	17. Chapter 17

Ren disliked third-year mathematics. Not all mathematics. Just third-year mathematics. He’d aced second-year stuff: functions, graphs, lines, equations- all of them honest and straightforward operations. But third-year stuff? Imaginary numbers. Matrices. Probability calculations. A whole slew of ways to calculate exactly how inexact something was. It all seemed an entirely different subject.

Makoto was not sympathetic. “Just wait till you get to economics,” she murmured without looking up from her own homework in the opposite booth seat.

A light spring rain drizzled against the windows of Cafe Leblanc. Futaba was in “the zone” and typing furiously on her laptop at the bar. Morgana was snoozing in the next stool. Sojiro was having his evening smoke and watching the evening news, muted and subtitled. As was customary to the cafe on weekdays around this time: no customers.

They could study in Ren’s room upstairs- but that didn’t seem the right thing to do after enjoying a free curry dinner from Sojiro. And free dinners were valuable- especially since the splurge on karaage the night before. And without the strange financial benefit of metaverse adventures, Ren and Makoto were readjusting to one of the more mundane disadvantages to young students: personal poverty.

So, they passed the after-dinner hour in companionable silence. Makoto would answer Ren’s questions with evasive, leading hints. She would never give him the answer to anything, or even tell him how to do something. That wouldn’t help him learn, apparently. Meanwhile, Makoto was composing some sort of essay about the Japanification of Buddhism. At the bar, Sojiro seemed content to just be in the same room with everyone. The cafe was, if anything, the living room of the Sakura family- of which Ren was an adoptive member, and Makoto more or less was “married-in”, as Futaba put it.

A quiet Thursday night. Ren idly wondered what Ryuji, Haru, Yusuke, and Ann were up to. He hadn’t seen much of Ryuji and Ann at school, both had rushed off after last bell- while Yusuke and Haru moved in different realms entirely. Ren suddenly realized his group of confidants was evolving. A sort of new family was growing here in Cafe Leblanc: there was a father, a little sister, a family pet (sort of). Ren’s eyes shifted to Makoto, her brow was furrowed as she proofread her own work in progress. A spouse.

And in Sae a big sister. Meanwhile, the other four seemed to be orbiting new centers of their own lives- something near to Ren, due to the existence of the Phantom Thieves, but not around him. Separate. They were all becoming somewhat less close as a group.. but perhaps that was the way it was supposed to go? Ren felt a little sad at the thought.

But then again, they all had seen each other as a full group yesterday, and that was the second time of the week. Still, in the old days- or rather, a year ago, they’d been together almost every day. But maybe he was just overthinking it. Probably.

“Did you finish?”

Ren blinked and realized Makoto was looking at him. He glanced down at his homework. It wasn’t done, but it was done enough that he could get the rest completed before that class tomorrow. He closed his notebook.

“Finished enough,” Ren said with a sigh.

Makoto’s eyes narrowed and her face tightened into a look of disapproval- it was the student-council-president face. Ren’s hackles rose slightly as he realized he was about to get nagged. It was one of the few aspects of Makoto’s personality that could get on his nerves.

But the click of the television turning off drew Ren and Makoto’s attention to the bar. Sojiro was untying his apron. It was time to close up for the night. Futaba closed her laptop, spun, and hopped off. Morgana yawned awake on his stool.

“All right, your two,” said Sojiro, ”Close up will you?”

“Goodnight,” said Futaba. “Wanna watch another episode of that show, Morgana?”

“Yes!” said Morgana. “Goodnight!”

And with that, Ren and Makoto found themselves alone in the Cafe Leblanc. Thankfully, Makoto seemed disinterested in her own schoolwork now. She closed her notebooks and leaned back into the booth seat with a sigh.

“It’s later than I thought,” she said, her eyes closing with apparent mental fatigue.

“Yeah,” said Ren as he watched her. She was tired. It had been a taxing week for her. School. Job. Otohime. Her father. Ren’s mind spun for a way to help Makoto relax. Oh! There was the new menu item he and Sojiro had worked on a bit.

“Want some honey ginger tea? It’s a new drink Sojiro is trying out.”

Makoto’s eyes opened and she smiled. “That sounds good. Sure.”

“It will take a bit to make. Gotta boil some water. Is that okay?”

Makoto took in a breath and Ren watched her eyes travel to the clock away behind him. “How long exactly? I still have a train ride in front of me.”

Ren felt a rush of disappointment. She wanted to go home tonight? Was she over the ghost thing? Or was she just forcing herself to face it? Or was it simply because this wasn’t her home, and it was a school night. Regardless, Ren would rather have her here- not because it was more fun to have her in bed than to be alone (well, not JUST because of that) but- well, he just wanted her around a bit longer today. They’d been together almost constantly the last few days. It felt like spring vacation again. Ren liked it. Things were just… better when she was around.

“Don’t go out into the rain. Stay here,” said Ren, a bit of Joker-mystique blending into his voice.

Makoto’s eyes flicked back to Ren. She looked thoughtful, but she was frowning. Ren was pretty sure that was the expression of Makoto reevaluating the plan she’d made for herself. That meant she wasn’t iron set on leaving, but a plan was a plan. She needed a bit of convincing:

“You have plenty of things in my room,” said Ren, careful to turn off the suave in his tone. “I’ll start making the tea, and... And! You could head to the bathhouse and soak a while! Much better than an apartment shower.”

“Umm.. well…” said Makoto.

Time to bring out the big guns:

“Stay,” Ren reached out and laid his hand on top of hers, the familiar feel of her skin adding a sensual undertone to what he was trying to articulate. “My life is better when you’re with me.”

Makoto blushed. She looked like the novice student of romance that she’d been over a year ago. It was a rare sight these days. Neither of them were novices anymore.

She smiled shyly and nodded. “Okay. I will.”

Ren felt mild elation shoot through his mind, and he smiled. They looked at each other for a short time, lost in the other.

“Oh. Well,” said Makoto, blinking away the shared spell. “Yes. I’ll get my clothing and towel and head across the street.”

“And I’ll get the tea going.”

“Okay.”

They both scooted out from the booth. Makoto went upstairs to Ren’s room to raid her own stash of sleep-over supplies. Meanwhile, Ren went behind the Leblanc counter and placed a small pot of water onto the burner. While it heated, he began to skin some ginger root. The citrusy smell of ginger quickly filled the cafe.

Makoto descended the stairs, bath bag in hand. She stopped near Ren and sniffed. “Mmm, that smells refreshing already.”

“It gets better.”

“Mmmhmm,” her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Oops. Had he sounded too salacious?  
But Makoto let it pass: “Twenty minutes, you said?”

“Yes.”

“All right.”

The cafe door tinkled as she left. Ren watched her cross the alley and enter the bathhouse. She could take care of herself, but they could take care of each other, too. She was beautiful. It was nighttime in a big city. Though crime rates were supposedly low in Japan compared to many countries. But... things could happen. Things had happened. Lots of bad, crazy, unlikely things happened, and happened to him. To Makoto. To them all. He had to be ready for the next thing to happen: Always. Forever.

Anyway. This was a darkly tiring train of thought. Makoto was safely across the street, and this ginger wouldn’t cut itself. Ren turned his attention to the moist root and began chopping it into small pieces. He then crushed it slightly to loosen the juice, and then scraped the pieces and the juice into the pot of boiling water. And that was pretty much it. Twenty to thirty minutes of boiling to get the water nice and... gingery. Then, a dash of lemon and a generous spoon of honey.

Simple, yet excellent. And the young, blue-ring Hawaiian ginger was especially good for drinks- or so Sojiro said. Apparently, that was what made Cafe Leblanc ginger tea so special (and his supplier gave him a good deal).

But with both the ginger and Makoto soaking in hot water, Ren had some time to kill. He looked around the cafe. It was relatively clean and he didn’t feel like attempting a half-hour of cleaning anyway. His eyes settled on the small collection of ragged books on the cafe counter. It was a sort of informal leave-one-take-one library for customers. Ren never saw anyone use the system, but it some people must utilize it, as the books did gradually transform into other titles, almost like magic.

Ren leaned over the cafe counter and rifled through the titles: The Waiting Years, the second Harry Potter book, Snow Falling on Cedars, Kokoro ((of course)), Helen Keller’s autobiography… most of it seemed far too heavy for a twenty minute wait. Well, except the Harry Potter book, but Ren didn’t want to jump into the second book right now. Then his hand stopped on a particularly ragged book. It felt like old leather; like an out-of-date encyclopedia, decades forgotten on some shelf. He pulled it out to get a better look at the cover. It was the “Records of Ancient Matters.” Kojiki. A collection of Japan’s myths, written way back before 1000 A.D. Interesting.

Ren began flipping through the pages. It was a common enough book to see. Anyone who studied Japanese mythology and religion would need to reference it at some point, but the old way of writing used by the author was awkward and a bit tiresome- so it wasn’t exactly the ideal pleasure read, but it was the most interesting option at the moment. Ren flipped to a random page and began reading. The old Japanese was hard to read, but he slowly made sense of it. It was about the god of storms and his various adventures and feats. Ren read, and as the ginger tea boiled next to him, he eventually came to the passage:

_And so, Swift-Augustus-Susano-O came to the head of the river and heard the sound of weeping. Searching for the source of the mournful sounds, he came across an old man and an old woman and their daughter. Said Susano-O: “Honored elders, why do you wail thus?” And the old man replied: “Because once we had eight daughters, but Rice-Haired-Inagami is the last. Eight-Forked-Serpent-Orochi devoured the others, and soon will come for her.”_

The cafe door tinkled again. Ren looked up to see Makoto entering the cafe, her brown hair still damp. Had it been that long already? He glanced at the clock: 7:34 pm. Yes, and a bit of extra soak time, too. Makoto smiled in a relaxed sort of way as she walked towards the cafe bar where Ren stood. She wore some mundane sweats and a long sleeve shirt, standard go-to-sleep-ware, but to Ren’s eyes, she always looked magnificent.

“Hey,” he said. His mind failing to provide him with anything better.

“Hey,” said Makoto, her smile growing slightly. Then she laughed lightly. “What’s that look about?”

“What? I have a look?”

“Yes, you do. You definitely were giving me a look.”

“Oh. I dunno...Uh, take a seat. I’ll finish up the tea.”

“All right.”

As Makoto set her bathhouse bag in one of the empty booths, Ren poured the ginger water into mugs. She then sat at the nearest bar stool across the counter and watched what Ren was doing, her hands on top of her lap in that habitual prim-and-proper way of sitting she had.  
Which meant she wasn’t relaxed. Was something bothering her? Had she wanted to go home that much? Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed for her to stay.

Ren paused his search for the honey. “Is something bothering you?”

Makoto blinked in surprise, then averted her gaze slightly. “Umm… well. I can't stop thinking about something…”

Ren stared at her. Waiting. “...okay…”

Her crimson eyes flashed back to his. “It's that man.”

“That man?”

“The one under the tree. The one I- I- executed.”

Ren’s mind recalled the sound of a human skull smashing against stony ground. Oh. That man. He’d been buried under fallen trees and Makoto used her powers on him before he could get up. Ren had been shocked by the ruthlessness of the act; not because he felt it was unnecessary, but because he hadn’t known Makoto had the capability for it.

“But-” said Ren, fumbling to make sense of what Makoto was telling him. He couldn’t. “But why?”

Makoto’s eyes dropped to bore into the countertop. Her fists clenched into tight balls atop her thighs. She puffed up slightly with a large breath.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about Father. He called me a killer, and I know he’s talking about that man.”

“But- you’re father-” Ren paused as Makoto’s eyes rose back to him with an intense gaze. He was about to make claims about the ghost of a man he’d never known. Someone very important to Makoto. Perhaps that wasn’t the wisest path. Ren averted his own gaze. Grabbed the honey bottle and began adding honey to the steaming mugs. He gathered himself in the brief silence. Makoto waited. Watching him.

“Makoto,” said Ren. Putting down the honey. “Everything on the Mountain Top was necessary! We had to do what we did to live!”

“I think that’s true for everything that I did up there,” said Makoto, “except what I did to that man.”

“He would have shot us in the back!”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Didn’t you do that because the first guy you let go came back and shot me?”

“Yes. But the first man was not that man. Maybe he wouldn’t have done the same.”

“...Makoto you made the choice between him and us. You chose us. We all survived. That means you made the right call.”

“But was it just?”s

“What?”

Makoto leaned forward in her chair. Her gaze deadly serious. “Was it a just act? Or was it just the best action for us?”

Ren opened his mouth to dismiss the difference, but he held himself back again. This was the crux of the issue. This question was the core of Makoto’s turmoil over the ghost of her father. This was an opportunity to unclog an emotional issue in Makoto’s mind. That was his job as leader, right? And as a boyfriend. He just needed the right words to draw it out. Ren bought time for himself by slicing a lemon and juicing the teas. He could feel Makoto’s eyes boring into him.

He needed a question- but one that didn’t sound confrontational or dismissive. Something phrased to bring out what Makoto was feeling- whatever inner concern that was driving her logic engine down this pathway. Ah. That was it.

Keeping his voice carefully even, Ren finished adding the lemon to the tea and then returned Makoto’s gaze: “What is the benefit to knowing the answer to that?”

Makoto’s mouth tightened into a white line. Her crimson eyes began to glisten. Then she blurted: “I’ll know if I’m still a good person!”

Ren was aghast. “What? You’re a good person.”

“Am I? How can I be so sure of that now? I was sure of my actions, then. So sure I was right. But now- now I’m not. And the more I think about it, the more I think I could be wrong. And that I did something really bad. Something evil! Without even realizing it till now! Before this, my mind was clear. I was sure ‘I’m good’. But now…” She closed her eyes, tears flowing down the side of her face. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ll forget for a while, then all of a sudden, it’s back in my mind and I worry and I worry. I debate with myself the merits of both sides, over and over. But it never works.”

This was almost exactly what Ren worried about after the Mountain Top. The nagging doubt. The could-haves, would-haves, should-haves. Was I right? Did I do wrong? All these endless questions he could never get the answers to. Normally, he was trapped in these cycles and Makoto got him out. Talk about a role-reversal. But how did she get him out of it?

Ren leaned forward and placed the cup of ginger tea in front of Makoto. Then he raised his hand to her face and cupped her cheek, using a thumb to rub away a tear. She didn’t smile, but she closed her eyes and leaned into his hand a little.

“Makoto, you’re a good person. I think only a good person would agonize themselves like this. An evil person is so sure they are right and good and just, they wouldn’t even worry about it. And I know you did the right thing.”

Makoto’s eyes opened and she looked at him. She looked a little better. She nodded and Ren withdrew his hand. She picked up her tea and sipped at it.

Ren continued: “Overthinking in retrospect is what I do. You’re in the same trap I get myself. You’ll never know the answer, Makoto. There’s no way to-”

“There’s a way. I already have a plan to get the answer.”

Ren froze. “What?”

Makoto took a deep breath. Her voice regained it’s matter-of-fact tone she had most often when planning something. “I’m going to get the Matsuzaki incident report from Sae. I’m going to identify the man. I’m going to visit his relatives.”

“Wh-... WHAT?!”

Makoto closed her eyes briefly, and when they reopened, Queen was staring at Ren. Hard and determined. “I know it’s stupid, illogical, foolish. I’ve thought about how it could expose us, but I already have a cover story figured out. Ren, it’s the only way I can learn about him. By meeting his family, seeing his home, figuring out his life.. I can learn who he was. Learn what he was motivated by. Learn what he would have done if I hadn’t killed him. Learn if I acted with justice.”

Ren’s mind was blank. It was insane. An insane plan. An insane idea. And from Makoto! It was logical, yes. It could potentially solve her private delimma, yes. But from an emotional and social aspect… it was insane! But Makoto’s logic pathways had driven her to such actions before- like back when they first started dating and she hunted down the other women Ren had in his cell phone. Or when she seemed to consider executing Otohime after their Palace infiltration. Both things were logical in a Makoto way, but also insane in a general-population way. It was Makoto’s one true imperfection that rarely made itself visible, but here it was, staring him right in the face.

Ren didn’t know how to argue against this plan. It had come so far out of left field for him. “But- but you can’t just-”

The bell of the cafe door tinkled. Both Ren and Makoto’s heads shot around. A goon stood in the doorway. A goon man in a goon suit with goon sunglasses. Triangle sunglasses.

“Hey, kid,” said Triangles. “The Boss wants you. Now.”


	18. Chapter 18

A syrupy tension filled the backseat of the black sedan. Ren looked over at Makoto in the rear seat next to him. She was still glaring at the two goons in the front seats, as if she wanted to will Triangles, and the driver, Circles, out of existence. Which she could, in fact, do. They all could. Which again was the scary temptation of power that, as yet, they’ve all managed to resist.

So far.

In Ren’s opinion, these were probably the least menacing of Otohime’s soldiers, and he didn’t fear for his or Makoto’s safety due to them. But Otohime’s faction was involved in some sort of shadow war that Ren only understood from movies, and those depicted ambushes, assassinations, and other such modest forms of murder. If the junior goons in the front seat were a target, their passengers may be acceptable, or even desirable, collateral damage.

Ren had wanted Makoto to stay behind. Makoto had fixed him with that same glare which was now focused on the goons in front. All objections and arguments had died in Ren’s throat. So they both were now on their way to see Otohime, wherever she happened to be.

And he wanted to talk Makoto out of her crazy plan regarding the dead policeman, but this was certainly not the place. Ren looked at Makoto’s face again. And it definitely wasn’t the time.

Ren instead looked out the window. The evening commute was more-or-less over, but Tokyo being Tokyo: there were still people everywhere- just less densely and moving with less urgency. As the car entered into the commercial and entertainment districts of Shinjuku, the absence of weekend frivolity was stark. Most of the people moving through here seemed to be intent on other destinations. The club hosts and hawkers looked bored and most were buried in the glow of their cell phone screens.

A red light brought the car to a slow stop, tension keeping the car silent as the four of them waited for the traffic signal. Ren’s eyes wandered over the pedestrians passing on the nearby sidewalk. Spring was here, though nights still held a damp chill to them. Most people were walking quickly past. But a couple of people were standing in a small group near the corner. Two men in coats and a woman in a tight sweater. A beautiful woman, by any standard. But this was Shinjuku. Men came here to see such women. Ren’s eyes were traveling away from the group, then a slight motion near the woman’s pale legs caught his attention. It was a tail. A thin, pointed tail- black and leathery.

Well, if there was a specific male interest in existence, Shinjuku probably had a cafe or club dedicated to it. Ren’s eyes began to wander away again. Wait. Did the tail just move? Ren sat up and looked closer. Was it some kind of advanced costume accessory? But the car began moving forward and the tailed woman was quickly out of sight.

“What is it?” said Makoto in a soft voice.

He turned to find her looking at him intently. The glare was mostly gone, but she still had an intensity about her. That was understandable in this situation.  
“Just a cosplayer, I think. She had a moving tail.”

“Oh.”

 

* * *

 

“We’re here,” said Circles from the driver’s seat.

Ren leaned towards Makoto’s side of the car to see where ‘here’ was. A typical Shinjuku alley way. Which meant their real destination would be somewhere within- likely one of the many little bars and restaurants which could only be accessed therein. Small, discrete establishments which Ren had seen on TV, but had never explored himself (not being of appropriate age until very recently). Makoto was sure to be in the same boat, though they both had ventured into some of Shinjuku’s more seedy areas. But this wasn’t an alleyway for sexual entertainment- just food and drink of varied types and in varied atmospheres.

A handful of normal-looking people were walking up and down the alley in twos and threes, perhaps shopping for a place to get a drink, or on the way to their customary favorite. But at several points, men in suits idled in small groups. They seemed intent on all passers-by and they didn’t carry the aura of relaxed salary-men. Goons. Lots of goons. This wasn’t just a food industry alleyway. It was Otohime’s current stronghold.

“Ren, do you see them?” said Makoto. She too was staring down the alleyway.

“Yeah.”

Circles and Triangles were already climbing out of the car. Triangles bent back down into the open passenger door, his face scowling with annoyance. “Come on, you two. Stop wasting our night. We have plans.”

“We do?” said Circles.

“Man! Shut up!”

Makoto turned her head back towards Ren, and he found Queen looking intently into his eyes: an intense, serious gaze… which did seem to have an accusatory glint to it. Otohime and her ongoing complications to the Phantom Thieves must be some sort of I-told-you-so situation for Makoto, but she would never say such a petty thing. Her eyes, however, could be devastatingly verbose.

“Let’s go,” said Joker.

Queen nodded.  
Ren got out of the sedan and quickly circled the trunk to stand next to Makoto. Meanwhile, Circles and Triangles were already walking down the alleyway, sharing subtle greetings with the groups of suited men along the way. Ren and Makoto followed after, shoulder to shoulder, one watching the groups on the left, the other the right. The alleyway was just another corridor of shadows; Joker and Queen had walked down plenty of those, side by side.

About halfway down the alleyway, their guides stopped outside a small bar. Classic Japanese doors, latticed windows covered in white paper, the head-high noren banner one needed to slightly duck under to enter- each hanging segment emblazoned with two red kanji: “Nostalgia.” The name of the establishment.

Circles slid open the sliding door of the bar slightly open, bowed to someone inside, then stepped aside and drew the door open fully. His hand indicated Ren and Makoto should enter. They did so.

They entered a small room. It would struggle to hold eight people standing shoulder to shoulder in any direction. The central area of the room contained a long eating-counter which made a sort of hollow square. In the center stood the man who was obviously the chef- a mature man in an apron with a scarred face. On the other side of the counter, just on the inside of the nearest corner, sat Otohime. Her aged, wrinkled face was gazing at them placidly. A sake carafe and cup was before her on the wooden countertop.

Ren and Makoto, suddenly confronted by the direct stares of two elder adults, felt their social instincts kick in and their bodies moved of their own accord: they bobbled their heads in the polite, quick bow of greeting to unrelated elder folk. Then they straitened and stood, briefly paralyzed like deer.

“So Ms. Connoisseur came, too,” said Otohime, “Well? Sit down.” Then to the man behind the counter: “Master, some tea, please.”

“Sure,” said the scarred man, and he ducked under the noren over the kitchen entrance.

Ren and Makoto entered. The door slid shut behind them. Otohime gave a slight wave of her hand to the two seats just next to her on the near corner of the square counter. Ren sat and sensed Makoto sit next to him on the right. The scarred-man returned and placed tea cups in front of them both.

Ren’s eyes were locked with Otohime’s. He was getting angry. She sent goons to Cafe Leblanc, she banked heavily on the threat of revealing the Phantom Thieves… she was acting more like a villain than an ally. Ren fully understood Makoto’s animosity towards Otohime, and he was beginning to feel the same way.

Otohime was giving them both a side-long glance, eyes half lidded. “So. Your hackles are up, Mr. Mackerel. And yours, Ms. Connoisseur. What is it?”

“You are,” said Makoto, “You sent men to get us.”

“To get you?”

“Don’t send your men to Cafe Leblanc again,” said Ren.

Otohime looked evenly at Ren, her eyes shifting slightly behind him, looking at Makoto he assumed. “I invited you to dinner. Is that so offensive?”

“It is if there is an ‘or else’ attached to it,” said Ren.

“There isn’t. Those idiots-!” Otohime sighed and rubbed her forehead. She looked briefly like a tired old woman, the fierceness vanishing from her expression. “Those two I sent to your… cafe. They’re fools. But loyal fools. Forgive them. I was merely inviting you to share a meal with me.” She rapped her knuckles on the countertop. “Master!”

“Yes,” said the scarred man from the kitchen. He re-emerged with a plate of tempura and set it before Ren and Makoto with a satisfied sigh. “Tempura anago,” he said, hand on hips. “I don’t usually stock such expensive seafood, but Ms. Otohime provided the sea eel for tonight. You’ll find the batter and the sauce a little different than the usual- to match the meat.”

Eel tempura? Otohime was obviously up to something. Ren didn’t believe Circles and Triangles misinterpreted her orders- they didn’t seem like independent thinkers. He looked at Makoto- her face was carefully neutral, but Ren was sure there was a spark of suspicion in the gleam of her eyes. But they were trapped by social convention now, and had to go through the motions.

“It looks amazing,” said Makoto to the chef as she reached for a piece of fried fish. “Thank you for the food.”

“Thank you,” said Ren, taking a peice, too. They dipped into the sauce, and under the watchful eyes of the scarred man and Otohime, took their obligatory bites. Ren’s mouth filled with the subtle sweetness of eel- this being sea eel, the meat was less creamy and a bit more flaky. The tempura sauce was slightly lighter and a touch acidic, pairing nicely.

“It’s- it’s delicious,” said Makoto from behind a hand covering her chewing mouth, genuine awe on her face.

The chef nodded in satisfaction and retreated to the kitchen. Otohime sipped at her sake cup, watching Makoto reach for another piece of fish. Ren set his own piece down, half eaten- it was good, but Makoto loved seafood a bit more than he did. Otohime’s eyes met his.

Otohime grinned salaciously. “She does have good taste in fish, doesn’t she, Mr. Mackerel?”

Ren didn’t find the joke amusing. He didn’t find any of this pretense amusing. Better to get this over with so he and Makoto could leave. Anywhere Otohime happened to be was a giant target for a gang war attack.

“Why are we here, Ms. Otohime?”

Otohime sighed. “Young people have no patience these days. It’s your computers. Your whole life, whatever you need is provided instantly. Go, go, go. Mr. Mackerel, you don’t have any idea how much worse life is now because of these gadgets! In the old days, people didn’t need to do things until the mail arrived. And that was good! It gave everyone TIME, Mr. Mackerel. People used to sit and talk. There was time to sit and mull over a steaming carafe of good sake, picking just the right words to say. People LIVED back then, not like now. People don’t have time to live.”

This coming from a woman who shepherded a criminal organization from the post-war to the modern era. Otohime liked to talk about the old days, but she was just as modern as everyone else. Ren wouldn’t be distracted.

“Mail us the dinner invitation next time, then.”

Otohime laughed. “Touche`. Fine, I’ll tell you.” She sipped her drink and waved her hand towards the far wall of the tiny restaurant. “I own a club a block or so that way. Scantily-clad women and cheap drinks- the sort of things certain kinds of men like. Ms. Connoisseur, don’t look at me like that. All my workers are voluntary. Some women like that kind of work… Anyway, at this very moment, one of Mr. Takoa’s thugs is there, having himself a good time. Not a captain or anyone of real value- just some bottom-rung fool that apparently doesn’t know where my territory happens to be.”

What was she suggesting? What did this have to do with the Phantom Thieves? Unless-!

“We’re not your assassins,” said Ren.

“Of course not,” said Otohime. “You lot lack the finesse in your killing to be assassins.”

Ren grimaced. She knew as well as they who killed all the corrupt policemen in Matzuzaki.

Otohime continued: “I don’t want you to kill the man. I want the information in his head. I want you to...” She rolled her hand in midair in a searching sort of motion. “Do whatever it is that you do. Like what you did to me. Tonight.”

Ren leaned back in his chair, surprised by the request. He heard Makoto choke on a piece of tempura and start coughing. She reached for her forgotten teacup.

“The deal was to take down Takoa,” said Ren, “You are going to waste our services on one of his flunkies?”

“Not one of his flunkies,” said Otohime, “A flunky of one Takoa’s flunkies. And the deal is still on. You are going to do your thing to Takoa. But-” Otohime paused and seemed to search for words. “Mr. Mackerel, Takoa is not a Kaneshiro. That fat fool was, at best, a low-ranking captain. And he exposed himself, to his own delight. Takoa does not. We’ll need to peel away the layers of his protection, like an onion. And tonight- we begin with the skin.”


	19. Chapter 19

“You’re changing our agreement,” said Ren, his voice getting louder despite himself.

Otohime slammed her sake cup on the table with a loud ‘clack’. “No, Mr. Mackerel! I’m trying to help you meet your side of the bargain! If you don’t wish to exploit this opportunity. Fine. Go take on Takoa yourself. Go off down the street to wherever he is, get past his army, and then do it!”

Find someone who police couldn’t keep tabs on, couldn’t catch. Then what do the Phantom Thieves do? Sneak in? Unlikely. Perhaps use some mind-control abilities and bluff their way through? Still too risky. Those powers didn’t always work and were limited in scope. Perhaps, fight their way in with their powers? Possible. But noisy and public. And after that? Kill Takoa? Obviously not. The Phantom Thieves are not assassins. So then… find a few hours to safely stand around Takoa and jump into his cognition... right after using super powers to bash into his stronghold? Not damn likely. 

I’ve been a fool, Ren realized. I should have thought of all of this before agreeing with Otohime’s deal. This isn’t a single mission- it’s a campaign. But create a Change-of-Heart in a low-ranking street criminal?

“Ms. Otohime. What do you hope this will accomplish? If we do this thing to this man, we don’t know what he will do or how he will react. You’re assuming we will gain some sort of control over him? We won’t. We don’t know what will happen.”

“Don’t you?” said Otohime, “You performed this… thing on me. And here we are. Why are we talking here, now, if you truly have no control?”

“Because you are blackmailing us.”

“And do you think I would be doing that otherwise?” snapped Otohime, “Do you think I would even care who you are? Do you think I would have ever had the desire to start a conflict with a stronger family than mine over some trafficked women? No, Mr. Mackerel. You do more than you say..”

Ren did not feel in control of anything at the moment, but that wasn’t exactly a strong line of reasoning to argue. He floundered for another line of argument: “What do you hope this man will do if we succeed?”

“Spill his guts,” said Otohime. She raised her sake cup, and one of her bodyguards bowed over and poured it full. “To me. Or to the police. Either way, some useful information will get out and that’s what we need.”

“How much time do we have?” said Makoto suddenly.

Ren turned to her in surprise, but she was focused on Otohime, her crimson eyes calculating. He trusted that Makoto’s mind had already leaped through the scenarios he’d just considered, and she was already in the planning stages of taking action. Ren was surprised. He expected Makoto would be more resistant to Otohime’s suggestions.

“Tetsu!” barked Otohime.

One of her thugs opened the restaurant door behind Ren.

“Yes?”

“How is our guest?”

“Already drunk and talking about getting something to eat. I told them to get a girl on his lap and an appetizer. They say he’s sated for now.”

Otohime turned her attention back to Ren. She opened her hands in an unsure gesture. “There you have it. If you two are going to move, you better do it before he does.” 

So not much time, then. Just as long as a drunk street thug didn’t decide to leave Otohime’s territory. Which certainly wasn’t enough time to contact and gather the Phantom Thieves for a mission. And that seemed to kill the operation before it even began. They didn’t move without the team. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Makoto again cut him off.

“We need a private, secure spot to do this,” said Makoto, drawing another surprised look from Ren. “And we need to be protected from interruptions.”

“Easy enough,” said Otohime with a wave of her hand, “The club has VIP rooms that can be very private. And I have plenty of able bodied young men for security. You won’t be bothered.”

That sounded like Makoto was actually going to agree with Otohime’s suggestion. The strategic planner, let's-do-it-slow-and-right-next-time Makoto was looking to pull the trigger! Without the others!

“Hold on!” said Ren, “Makoto, can I speak to you for a moment?”

Her calculating eyes locked on his, and she nodded. They both stood up from their chairs.

“Don’t take all night,” grumbled Otohime..

Ren ushered Makoto in the far corner (which wasn’t very far in this tiny establishment) and leaned close to Makoto’s intense face. “You sound like you are actually considering this,” said Ren in a low whisper.

Makoto copied his volume: “Yes. Listen: she’s right. This is an opportunity we should seize now.”

“Without the others?,” said Ren, a bit of disbelief evident in his whisper. “We’ve never infiltrated a Palace with just two people before.”

“You and Ryuji did it.”

“With Morgana! And that was before we knew anything at all.”

Makoto paused, accepting the point. Her eyes shifting down. She was thinking. Her eyes snapped back up to Ren’s. “Well, this won’t be a Palace, Ren. This isn’t some terribly distorted soul. It’s just some fool at the bottom of the ranks. He won’t have a Palace.”

“You can’t know that. You’re just making assumptions.”

“I’m making educated guesses off what we know so far,” said Makoto in a matter-of-fact whisper.

“How can we infiltrate someone’s cognition if there is no Palace?”

“I think the same way Akechi used to- he targeted normal people several times- alone.”

That- that was true. Akechi probably spent most of his time leaping into undistorted minds- or perhaps only… normally distorted? Futaba’s mother. A subway engineer. Principal Kobayakawa. None of them had distortions that approached the level of a Shido or an Okumura, yet Akechi was able to get inside their heads, all the same; And in the old, geographically-linked metaverse before Above the Clouds.

Makoto was ahead of him, as always: “If Akechi could handle the cognitions of the undistorted, then I’m reasonably assured that you and I will be more than a match for anything we might find inside some low-brow flunky.”

“But move without the team? Without even a meeting? We’ve never done that before.”

“But we don’t have time. This window will close, just like Otohime is saying,” Makoto paused, an amused expression appearing on her face. “Ren, you sound like me.”

“Because you don’t sound like you,” Ren blurted, realized that didn’t really help his case. ”And I like the sound of you, so I have to fill in here.”

A pause. Makoto gave him a look of bemused exasperation. “That line was a bit of a reach.”

“Yeah...”

The sharp crack of porcelain on wood caused Ren to jump slightly. Otohime had banged her sake cup again. 

“The evening is waning, you two!”

Makoto’s face returned to its serious cast. “I don’t like that woman and I don’t like how we are involved with her; but- but she’s obviously capable, knows her business, and wants us to succeed. We need to take the opportunity she’s discovered. From what we know of Takoa, he’s certainly the greater evil to take down.”

Well, Makoto was ready and eager. Ren wasn’t personally opposed to an infiltration with just the two of them. He was more worried about the Phantom Thieves rules… but… the team had already voted to take on Takoa, after all. So if he thought about it that way, the team already gave the green light to begin operations. No reason to argue too hard against what he himself wanted to do, too. 

Ren turned back towards Otohime, but he felt a hand on his arm. He looked back over his shoulder at Makoto.

“But if it looks like anything like a real Palace, we get out, okay?”

“Yeah,” said Ren. And then to Otohime. “Okay, Ms. Otohime. We’ll do it.”

“Of course you will. You’re sensible people.” She made a shoo-ing motion with her hand. “Go outside. Tetsu will take you there and provide all that you need.”

At her words, the door was opened from the outside, beckoning them back into the Tokyo night. But the scar-faced man reemerged from his kitchen and placed a small paper bag on the countertop. He indicated they should take it.

“For your journey,” he said.

It being impolite to turn down such an offering, Ren and Makoto took the bag, bowed, and thanked the man. They exited the small restaurant and found Tetsu waiting for them. He was tall and broad, with a no-nonsense expression on his stony features. Ren didn’t pay much attention to male fashion, but even he noted that Tetsu looked good in his tailored suit.

“Come,” said Tetsu. He then turned and walked down the alleyway towards the distant main street. 

Ren and Makoto looked at each other and then followed. As they walked, Ren looked inside the paper bag from the chef. Inside, two cylinders of fried something nestled in wax paper. The smell of warm cornbread was unmistakable.

“What’s in it?” said Makoto.

“Corn dogs?” said Ren.


	20. Chapter 20

As Ren followed Otohime’s soldier, his doubts over this plan of action grew. This wasn’t right. He could feel it in his core- a gnawing ache in that center of his torso, between heart and gut. He glanced to his right and looked at Makoto, her crimson eyes flickering between the back of their guide, Tetsu, and their surroundings. Her face was in that tight, determined mask- a Makoto who had crafted herself a plan and was now carrying it out. How many times had Ren, and all the Phantom Thieves, stood beside that exact Makoto and found themselves guided to victory?

Countless times. And yet. And yet, this time, it wasn’t right. They were about to break the first rule of the Phantom Thieves; the only official rule, come to think of it. Not that anything surrounding their group was exactly “official”, but if something was, the rule of unanimous consent was it. No matter how good the reasons, it was something that should not, could not be broken.

Ren had the sudden impulse to stop following this man, tell him the deal was off, and drag Makoto away. It would make her angry, but she would accept the decision, and forgive him once he explained his reasoning. Leaving would probably make Otohime furious, but she needed them desperately, so Ren didn’t fear retaliation. He made up his mind. His leg froze for a split-second, his body preparing to stop. His mouth opened to tell this Tetsu goon to forget the whole thing.

But.

But this was such a good opportunity. It wasn’t that Makoto or Otohime were wrong. This plan was just against procedure, not altogether wrong. Maybe it was too soon to cancel. There was a little time yet. Had he explored all the options? Ren’s body continued forward, but the brief pause caused him to stumble slightly. Makoto eyed him questioningly but said nothing.

The procedure before a target was to get unanimous approval from the Phantom Thieves; not necessarily to hold a meeting. Meetings were just the most conventional way to connect and establish unanimous consent. Yet the Phantom Theives were always connected by their phones. Why not try and get the approval right now? Why didn’t they think of this before?

Ren took out his cell phone and began typing furiously, trying to keep one eye on the screen and one on the pavement before him.

J: Queen and I have the chance to infiltrate a flunky of our target. We are sure the man is low-ranking yakuza. Unlikely to have Palace-level distortion. If we can change his heart, we may get some essential information on the main target.

Makoto’s phone buzzed, and she reached for it.. Ren watched her read as they walked. She glanced at him with raised eyebrows, then nodded. Whether she guessed at Ren’s internal quandary or not, he wasn’t sure, but she seemed to accept Ren’s text. Her goal wasn’t secrecy from the others- she just wanted the mission accomplished.

Meanwhile, they continued to follow the man called Tetsu while waiting for replies. Tetsu walked onward without a look back. He was either unaware of their phones or uninterested. Ren supposed there was no reason for the man to care if he and Makoto used cell phones or not. He was a guide, not a jailor.

Ren’s phone began buzzing as texts came flooding in:

_S: For real?_   
_N: Just the two of you?_   
_O: 0.0_   
_P: What?_   
_O: btw Mona is also surprised_   
_S: Wait- what do you mean “Palace-level” distortion? There are different levels of distortion???_   
_O: duh, shadows in palaces and shadows in Mementos were different_   
_S: oh yeah_   
_J: Short on time. Working off Queen’s theory. We are on the way now. We need your approval._   
_F: Approval? I’ve long since approved of your relationship with Queen._   
_P: Scroll up, Fox!_   
_F: ?_   
_N: I can come now. Just wait for me!_   
_S: And me!_   
_F: Ah… I see. I joined a conversation-_   
_J: We don’t have time to wait. We can explain later, but Queen and I think we need to move right now. Will you trust us with approval?_   
_F: ... already in progress._   
_S: Dude.._   
_N: What are you going to do about your bodies in the real world?_   
_O: Good question_

Ren’s breath caught. Damn! Haru was right! If he and Makoto set hands on this yakuza man and jumped into his cognition, their real bodies would go into some sort of coma and they would be entirely oblivious to all that happened around them. They would be defenseless. Not to mention they were still unsure if there were any adverse effects to prematurely severing the contact between a Phantom Thief and their target. Which was why during the infiltration of Otohime’s Palace, half of the Phantom Thieves had remained in the real world to defend their frozen members.

But it was just the two of them tonight.

Ren glanced at Makoto. She was frowning, her brows knitted in concentration, probably brainstorming a solution. But before Ren could start his own thinking, her fingers started working at her own phone.

_Q: I’m guarding Joker. I’ll be outside._   
_P: He’s going in alone?_   
_O: You said you were both going tho_   
_Q: Sorry, we’re rushing there now. That’s what we meant: Joker is going in to scout it out. If it's more than he can handle, we retreat._   
_S: Well, he is pretty sneaky when he wants to be._   
_F: I agree with the plan. Go ahead._   
_P: Really, Fox?_   
_F: If Joker and Queen have a plan and are aligned in thought, it must be a good idea._

Ren felt immense affection towards Yusuke in that moment, but almost simultaneously, a ball of lead dropped into the bottom of Ren’s gut. He and Makoto were aligned on the Mountaintop, and how well did that turn out? Was he about to mislead his friends, once again? Was this entire Otohime campaign doomed to a similar bloody climax? Didn’t his friends fear that? Didn’t they look at him and doubt? How could they not? Surely, some of them would reject this idea.

_P: When you put it like that…_   
_S: Right? Go for it, dudes, I guess._   
_P: Yes. I don’t like it. But yes._   
_N: If you be careful!_   
_O: Mona and I say yes._

That was all of them. Ren’s breath caught and he read the texts again. They’d all agreed simply because he and Makoto thought it was a good idea. The gnawing worry in Ren’s chest faded slowly. He put away his phone and took a deep breath, trying to center his mind. If they still trusted him that much… Well. He just couldn’t make any mistakes again. That was all.

Take down mafia kingpin. No violence. No mistakes. And to start it all off, he needed to change someone’s heart, solo. And Makoto was set to guard him on the outside, also solo. Simple and safe. Sure. Just another day in the life.

Testu, Ren, and Makoto rounded a corner and Ren heard the muted sound of traffic- this alleyway met onto a main traffic road. Up ahead, the glaring illumination of street lights clearly marked the end of the narrow alleyway. Halfway towards the street, two men in black suits stood near a nondescript door. It appeared to be the back door to some business which had a main entrance facing the street. Certainly, this was Otohime’s club. Or one of them, anyway.

Tetsu’s broad shoulders led the way. The two guards in suits stood a bit straighter when they saw Tetsu approaching, and they were quick to open the door. Aggravatingly loud techno-pop burst into the otherwise peaceful night air.

Is that?... Is that some sort of dance remix of ‘Plastic Love’? What kind of place was this? Tetsu indicated they should enter, so Ren and Makoto followed him into a dim hallway. The music was muffled, but still louder in here than on the street. This appeared to be some sort of staff hallway, and the music was coming from the main room of the club.

A door on their left opened and a woman wearing a bikini and high-heels stepped into the hallway. The number “17” was visible on a small button attached to her revealing top. Behind her, Ren caught a brief glimpse of a dressing room- light-bordered mirrors and young women in various states of dress and undress. Then the door closed before Ren could get a hold of himself and wrench his own eyes away from the scene.

The woman looked surprised to see them. “Oh! Mr. Testsu! Is there a problem?”

“No,” said Tetsu, curtly. “I’m here to see our special guest. What room is he in?” He was suddenly speaking very formally.

The woman grinned, tried to cover it with her hand, then bowed. “V.I.P. 4. I’ll lead you.”

The mostly-naked woman led them further down the hallway. The music grew louder. Then they passed through a hanging curtain and were in another hallway, but more elaborately decorated. It must be a customer-facing portion of the building. Another curtained opening was ahead on the left, and beyond that, six closed doors. Their guide led them towards the six doors. As they passed the curtain, Ren glanced out to see a stage, bright lights, the shadows of a small audience, and a topless woman doing gymnastics on a pole.

Not just a club with women and cheap drinks. It was a strip club. Ren was surprised, but… that didn’t really change anything, did it? A hostess club, a strip club, what difference did it make for their current mission? Except that Makoto was going to be the one guarding him: A beautiful, young, lone woman... in a club where beautiful young women stripped for male pleasure.

“Are you sure you-?” he began.

“I’ll be fine,” she said with a slightly apprehensive look. “We’ve been in lots of clubs, remember? Looking for Eiko.”

“Those were hostess clubs-”

Makoto’s face regained its businesslike determination. “I’ll be fine. You are the one that needs to be careful.”

Further objections died on Ren’s lips as their bikini guide turned to them, bowed, and indicated one of the doors. “This one, Mr. Tetsu.”

“Thank you, Ms. Ruru,” said Tetsu, a slight bit of stiffness in his voice.

The staff member bowed and walked back the way they came, but not before touching Tetsu’s forearm lightly as she passed. Tetsu startled notably at the touch but said nothing. Ren and Makoto shared a look. If these two were trying to hide something, they were doing a rather poor job.

Then Tetsu gave them a look that was all business, and he opened the door.

“Finally, my food is here, yeah?” said an obviously drunken voice from inside the room.

Tetsu entered. Ren and Makoto followed him into a lounge room, complete with large sofa, a table filled with empty glasses, bottles, and plates- and a karaoke machine ((turned off, thankfully)). Sitting on the couch was a thin man in a cheap suit. He was wearing sunglasses inside and at night. Classic goon. And he had four women sitting on the couch with him, three of which, Ren could not help noticing, had their dress tops off- one uncomfortable looking woman even had the goon’s arms around her bare torso with a hand cupping her breast.

“Sir,” said Tetsu, “I believe you were informed of our no-touching policy here.”

The goon laughed. “Yeah. What bullshit is that, anyway? How could a man not touch?”

“Everyone out,” said Tetsu with a growl.

The four women looked immensely relieved and immediately stood up, replacing the bodices of their dresses. Or tried to. The woman already in the drunkard’s grip was pulled back down to his lap with a startled cry.

“Hold on, sweetie. Look, fella. You know who I am, right? Know who I work for? I’m gonna do what I-”

The bottom of Tetsu’s shoe smashed into the goon’s mouth, snapping his head back. He lost his grip on the woman and she sprang away and fled the room with the others. The kicked goon staggered to his feet and reached into his jacket, but Tetsu quickly backhanded him in the face, grabbed the searching wrist, wrenched a pistol free, and shoved the bleeding man back down onto the couch. Ren was impressed. Tetsu made all that seem effortless. This was the level of Otohime’s best? He doubted Circles and Triangles could manage the same.

“Bastard!” said the sitting man, both nose and mouth red with blood. “You’re gonna die for this!”

“I doubt it,” said Tetsu. He looked at Ren and Makoto. “All right. It’s time to do whatever the Boss wants you to do.”

“Like hell it is!” said the goon. He made another attempt to get up, but Tetsu lifted a leg and put a foot to the man’s chest and shoved him back down, holding him there with his leg.

Ren looked at Makoto. She looked worried. And his own face must have looked worried because she said: “Don’t worry about me. Just get back out if it looks like too much to handle.”

“I will.”

Ren turned and approached the trapped man on the couch.

“Hey! Do what to me? Get away! I work for Boss Takoa! You hear me? You do anything to me, you die! Get away, fucker!”

Ren leaned in towards the goon. The desperate man struck out at him, but Ren was expecting the blow, caught the wrist, and focused his mind on the feeling of shifting into the Metaverse. Ren felt butterflies in his stomach. Red and black bubbles seemed to form on the edge of his vision, then dissipated.

Ren straightened, time frozen around him. He stepped out of the frozen image of his own body. Ren’s frozen self continued gripping the wrist of the goon. The desperate man’s face was frozen in a look of fear and objection.

Like with Otohime, Ren found himself free to move amidst the statues of himself, Tetsu, and Makoto- Ren searched the room for a window like the one which had allowed passage into Otohime’s palace. And there it was, eerily hanging in mid-air above the couch. Ren grabbed the floating window sill, found it to be as solid as if it were in concrete, and easily pulled himself up and through the opening into another world.


	21. Chapter 21

The window was ground level on the other side, so Ren easily rolled his way through and stood up, his Joker coat flowing around his legs. He found himself in an open space roughly the size of Shujin’s gymnasium. The walls and ceiling were formed from a sort of boiling mixture of colors, dull red, purple, and black. Fairly typical for the domains of the minor targets of the Phantom Thieves, the less-distorted shadows they hunted down in Mementos.

Ren checked his pockets. Long knife. Check. Gun. Check. So far so good.

Makoto’s theory that this target would be a minor shadow appeared to be correct. This space held no grand construction like a castle or shrine or skyscraper. There was only a large collection of what looked like furniture. Dressers, bookshelves, lamps, tables, and a seemingly endless variety of brickerbrack, all stylish and expensive-looking, but useless junk all the same. This certainly was no Palace. It looked more like a rummage sale.

But where was the shadow of… of… come to think of it- he didn’t even know the man’s name. Well, with physical contact being the new way of infiltration, names no longer held the same importance. Ren didn’t need it. All he needed to do was seize Whatshisname’s treasure and intimidate the man’s shadow into changed behavior. And speaking of behavior… what crimes was the man guilty of? Well, he was a goon. So surely it would be goon crimes: violence, exploitation, thievery. Ren didn’t expect problems. With a heavy beating and a few leading questions, the shadow would probably confess his own failures. Easy.

Easy meant fast, and he wanted to be out of here quickly. Makoto was waiting for him outside, alone in a yakuza strip-club. She was far from defenseless, but being alone was always dangerous- there was less room for error. For himself, too, so he shouldn’t take risks and rush this. If this place was anything like Otohime’s Palace, time was moving slower outside, an hour in here was ten minutes out there. Time was on his side, but not too much of it.

Ren slipped into the tangle of furniture, moving slowly and quietly. The shadow he was looking for must be somewhere amidst the clutter. Probably right in the middle.

 

* * *

 

Makoto tried to ignore the buzz of apprehension in her mind as she watched Ren grab the gangster’s wrist and go still. She didn’t need to worry. Ren could handle what he found inside this target. A minor shadow for a minor criminal; The theory was sound. But a theory was a theory, and Makoto worried.

It could be wrong. And here she was, rushing them both into a risky situation and sending Ren into the- the- Metaverse, for a lack of a better word. Alone. Both of them alone. Everything was more dangerous alone. She was doing all the things she thought were mistakes in Matzusaki.

But risk was inevitable. Nothing meaningful can be done without risk, and the Phantom Thieves had a great deal to do. They needed Takoa taken out and Otohime off their backs. Tonight was an opportunity, perhaps a singular opportunity, to get closer to those goals. She took a deep breath and calmed herself, retaking stock of the situation.

Makoto was confident in her risk assessment: Ren could handle a great deal by himself, even if he only possessed a single persona. And she herself may be a young woman surrounded by gangsters, but she possessed the same powers Ren did. He needed to battle shadows while she only had to worry about normal human beings. So long as she kept a wall behind her, she was more than a match for any danger the real world possessed.

“What-? What’s happening?” said Tetsu, his foot still on the chest of the gangster Ren had now frozen with his infiltration.

Makoto shook off her worry. The plan was already in motion. There was no point to worrying about it. She simply needed to do everything she could to bring it to a successful conclusion.

“You can remove your foot,” said Makoto. “Your guest won’t be able to move until my-... my associate, is done with him.”

Tetsu gave Makoto a doubtful look, but he lifted his foot from the sitting man’s chest and stood normally. He was tall and broad, almost twice the mass of Makoto herself. If he decided to attack her or Ren... The dangers of her current situation set Makoto’s mind racing: Even with her powers, he could be a threat if he did ‘x’, ‘y’, or ‘z’. She could effectively counter ‘x’ and ‘z’ with augmented strength, but ‘y’ could be more of a problem unless she-

“-you listening? Hey! Girl!”

Makoto blinked. She’d been so engrossed that she hadn’t heard what Tetsu was saying.

“Excuse me. What?”

“What’s your friend doing to him? They’re… frozen!”

How to answer? This was the first witness of this type of infiltration, and it was a bit harder to explain than suddenly popping out of a Palace onto a busy street. That was just a trick of the light, or a failure of the security cameras, or a mistaken eyewitness. But now Tetsu could just stare at the eerily still forms of target and Phantom Thief.

“Oh! Ummm-” Makoto’s mind raced. She looked at Ren and the frozen gangster and tried to see it through a bystander’s eyes. They were frozen oddly, but luckily they seemed to be looking each other right in the eyes. “Hypnosis! It’s a type of hypnosis.”

Tetsu gave her a doubtful look. “Hypnosis, huh?”

He bent down and waved a hand in front of Ren’s frozen face. “I thought hypnosis was just bullshi-”

**Pop! Pop!**

Ice ran through Makoto’s veins. She crouched to the ground and turned towards the closed door of their small room. Tetsu’s hand went inside his jacket and withdrew a pistol. They shared a look, realizing they both instinctively recognized the sound of gunfire.


	22. Chapter 22

Ren soft-stepped his way through the odd maze of furniture. Each desk, wardrobe, armoire, and dresser seemed to be of an entirely different style and make, so the different heights, widths, and lengths never quite fit together, turning the open space of this… Palace?

Could he just call this a Palace for simplicity’s sake? No, it wouldn’t do to confuse the vocabulary. They needed a new word for this kind of area. A… umm… what had Morgana called them, way back when? Nothing in particular, but he’d said they were like seeds: Distortions that might one day grow into full-fledged Palaces. So, ‘Seed’, then.

This Seed was a maze of stored furniture, like a large storage room of some wholesale company. It all also seemed a bit bigger than real furniture would be. Ren felt a weird nostalgia, like he was a child exploring a storage room. That probably had something to do with the growing distortion in the gangster, but hopefully Ren wouldn’t need to figure that out to take care of business here.

But where was this shadow? This place wasn’t exactly large, so where…? A soft murmur of voices came to Ren’s ear. He froze, listening. One male voice and one female- no- two female voices. That was odd. There’d never been more than one shadow in a Seed before. Assuming the extras were shadows. They could be cognitions. But a cognition in a Seed? That would even weirder. Cognitions were much stronger than shadows. Surely, a Seed could not produce one. But everything was new these days, so Ren could not be sure. He would just have to carefully approach the source of these voices and see for himself.

Ren squeezed between two dressers, ducked under a too-large desk, and put his back to a dark oak wardrobe. Just beyond, the dim shadow of the Seed revealed a sort of clearing. The voices were louder now, but still indistinct; a jumble of murmuring and giggles. It reminded Ren of romantic classmates at school when they thought they had a private space. It was not a particularly threatening sound. He peaked around the corner.

The center of the small clearing held a large couch. The shadow of the thin gangster was there, same as in life, but his suit looked nicer here. Sitting next to him were two naked young women, and they seemed to be enjoying the attention of the gangster's roving hands. But were the women shadows or cognitions? Ren’s eyes traced their voluptuous forms, seeking some clue. There! Almost invisible in the dim light of the Seed, their tails were visible. These were succubi, relatively low-grade shadows.

Ren quietly took out his pistol and checked the clip and chamber. The shadow of a minor criminal with a mild distortion and two succubi. That seemed manageable, even if he no longer possessed the Wild Card. Ren gently slid the pistol clip back into place. It looked like everything was going to plan.

 

* * *

 

This is a disaster!

Makoto's mind whirled as the muted music of the nightclub was drowned out by the screams of customers. Two gunshots and then screams. Perhaps to scare away all the civilians before an impending gang battle? That was assuming all the yakuza movies she’d watched had any truth to them; A dubious reference material, but it was all she had to work with.

Tetsu crouch walked towards the door, reaching for the knob, cracking the door open to look into the VIP hallway outside. Makoto realized his objectives would be drastically different from hers. He would want to challenge the invaders and protect his gang’s territory. Makoto didn’t care about Otohime’s sleazy club. She just wanted violence to stay away from this room. Should she wait here and guard Ren or should she move outward in a bid to keep the apparent brewing conflict as far away as she could? Bullets traveled and were not impeded by drywall...

Testsu froze as a silver pistol pushed through the door crack and met gently with his forehead.

“Mr. Tetsu,” said a voice in the hallway, “Just the man I was hoping to see.”

 

* * *

 

Ren took a steadying breath, then whirled out from his cover. He saw surprise break out over the faces of the three not-people. Then the expressions of the two women twisted into inhuman rage, wings unfurled suddenly from their backs.

**POP!**

The first succubi screeched and tumbled back to the couch. Ren snapped his gun to the other.

**POP!**

Another screech.

“What are you doing!?” yelled the gangster’s shadow, standing up.

Ren stepped forward and kicked the man in the chest, sending him tumbling over the back of the couch. Then Ren’s pistol went into his coat and his long knife came back out.

He always hated killing shadows which looked too human, and succubi were some of the least deformed of them all. He raised his knife over the first winged demon-woman, her expression of bestial pain transforming into human-like fear. But Ren was expecting it- he’s seen it before. He plunged his knife into the succubi’s chest. A dissipating, black mist spurted out of the wound as the shadow screeched. Ren withdrew the knife, the rest of the succubi’s female body already dissolving back into the blackness from which it spawned.

The other succubi was beginning to recover, but before it could fully stand, Ren slashed it across the neck. It clutched at the wound and gurgled, then collapsed back to the couch, dissolving like the first.

“No!” said the gangster.

Ren turned to see him peeking over the back of the couch, his face full of terror. That was strange. Every Mementos target Ren could think of became aggressive when cornered. They transformed into their shadow form and attacked. But this one seemed to lack all manner of backbone. Perhaps that was why he created two shadow guards for himself? Well, it didn’t matter. Time to complete the mission. Ren stepped toward the cowering gangster.

“No!” the man shouted and began crawling away at a surprising speed. Ren leapt over the couch to follow him, but as he did so, the crawling gangster began to… melt. His limbs shrank, his knees sunk into his own body even as he crawled, transforming quickly into an amorphous ball of sludge. Ren suddenly recognized the creature’s form as that of a Slime. Then it oozed its way under a pile of furniture and was out of sight.

Great.


	23. Chapter 23

“Where’s our man, Tetsu?” said the voice from the hall. “We know that moron wandered in here.”

Dread ran through Makoto’s body. Ren was helpless- in the mind of the infiltration target and thus rigidly comatose in this world, gripping the arm of a similarly frozen gangster. Ren could be accidentally shot- or purposefully shot, come to think of it. Or beaten. Or just be pulled apart from the infiltration target.

This new, direct-contact infiltration was a delicate process that Makoto and the others didn’t know enough about- such as: what would happen to Ren if the process was interrupted? The Phantom Thieves didn’t know, but they were all confident it would have a bad result of some sort. How bad? Who knew? So they didn’t experiment. And now a yakuza war was breaking out in this very room with Ren on his knees in the middle of the floor! 

Makoto cursed herself for putting Ren in this position. Acceptable risk? What did that really mean when the dice come up snake-eyes? A regretful fool clutching statistics to their chest, that’s what. And Makoto could hear Yusuke’s voice in her mind, from a time not long ago, as he matter-of-factly gave an honest evaluation of Makoto in front of everyone in Cafe Leblanc: ‘...she can be astonishingly impulsive when she gets a plan in her head.’ It had embarrassed Makoto then because it was too accurate, and it still was, but this time she wasn’t helpless amidst gangsters: it was Ren. 

She had to come up with a plan to fix this!

From where she stood, Makoto could only see the new hand and the gun sticking through the ajar door. Should she attack now? Should she wait? She tried to consider what could happen in either case, but she didn’t have enough information. Was it just this one man with a gun? Were there more with him? Could she disarm the weapon hand before Tetsu was shot? Did it matter if he was shot, so long as Ren was kept safe? Would Ren be safer with Tetsu alive or dead?

Paralyzed by a mind churning on too little information, Makoto watched the door open wider and a goon stepped in- haphazardly-worn-suit, tie, smug smile, pistol in hand- Ren was right, they always had that look. 

Makoto decided she just needed to attack. At least she would have the initiative at that point, so if any other goons were in the hallway, they would be reacting to her instead of entering the room and seeing Ren. 

But just as she readied herself to spring forward, another voice from the hall said: “Hey, there he is!” 

The door burst open and another suited goon strode into the room.

“Get off him, jackass!” the man said, and he raised his right foot into the air. 

Just as Makoto realized the man was going to kick Ren, it was already happening. The gangster’s foot shot out and hit Ren’s shoulder. Ren’s body was shoved away from the infiltration target, his hand losing its grip on the target’s wrist. Ren went limp and rolled with the kick’s momentum onto his stomach, face in the carpet.

“No!” shouted Makoto, as a third man entered, heard her voice and pointed his gun at her. She was only vaguely aware of the new arrival, her eyes locked on Ren’s still body. She needed to get to him. She needed to see if he was okay. She needed these damn gangsters gone!

Makoto fixated her attention on the nearest goon- the one pointing his gun at her. A plan began forming in Makoto’s mind: She decided this man would go down first, just as soon as she had an opening. Meanwhile, the gangster squinted at her in confusion, then his gun dropped away from Makoto as he turned his head to look towards his companions.

“I think we got a civilian here, guys. What should I do?”

This is it! Makoto imagined herself filled with power, just as Ren had described from his final fight with Akechi- and just like she’d practiced since.

“Anat!” she shouted, pouring her focus into her voice, willing the cognition to be reality. It worked. Makoto could feel Anat surface from where it dwelled somewhere within.

The goon turned at the sound of her shout, his gun coming back up. But Makoto did not intend to wait for him. Maybe no Phantom Thief had attempted using the full-body enhancement technique on a normal human before, but Makoto didn’t trust her nuclear attacks. She had no other choice.

She burst into motion, her legs infused with Anat’s supernatural speed, feet following the endlessly practiced steps of an akido attack kata. Almost before her eyes could transfer what she was seeing to her brain, she was inside the reach of the goon. The instinct of training moved Makoto without thought. She formed the knife-hand strike with her right hand and chopped at the goon’s wrist. The edge of her palm burst through sinew and bone with a meaty, crunching noise, followed by high-velocity gore splattering over the nearby floor and wall. The ruin of a human hand, still gripping a pistol, flopped wetly to the floor.

Surprised by the violence of her own strength, Makoto halted in her kata, withholding the under-chin uppercut that was supposed to be the next move. The now-one-handed goon, the other gangsters, Tetsu- everyone froze for a second in collective shock. Then the man screamed in terror, breaking the spell.

Makoto swung her chopping hand back around, flat-palmed, slapping the screaming goon in the chest. A crunch of cartilage, but no blood- and the goon shot sideways through the air and into one of his two comrades. They both slammed into the room’s drywall in an explosion of plaster. 

The final goon was whirling on Makoto, moving his aim from Tetsu’s face to Makoto’s. She would be upon him before that maneuver could be completed, but as soon as the gun was pointed away from Tetsu, he punched the goon in the side of the head, sending the final enemy to the floor in a limp heap.

Testu picked up the man’s gun, then moved to the two men half-embedded in the wall. Makoto left him to it, with the immediate threat gone, she only had eyes for Ren. He was still prone on the ground and motionless. 

Fear tingling in every pore of her body, Makoto reached for him, laying hands gently on his back, holding her breath. She felt his chest rise and fall. Relief flooded through Makoto’s body. Ren wasn’t dead. He was breathing- a bit heavily and quickly, but robustly. 

Makoto cautiously turned Ren over. His eyes were closed and he had a concerned expression on his face. Makoto placed a hand on his cheek, feeling the chill of her own skin from her earlier fear.

“Ren?”

He didn’t respond. She patted him lightly on the cheek with her palm.

“Ren?... Ren!”

Still nothing. Could he have hit his head on the floor? Makoto didn’t think he had fallen with much force, but perhaps she hadn’t noticed in the heat of the moment. She could try a heal spell. 

“Anat! Diarahan!”

Green energy flowed from her hands and absorbed into Ren’s skin. She waited impatiently for a few seconds. Nothing seemed to happen. Ren continued to breathe and nothing else. It was like he was asleep or in a coma.

Alarm began to spread through Makoto again. Ren had been separated from the target during an infiltration. A few Phantom Thieves meetings had been spent speculating on the consequences of this event: but since this form of infiltration was new… they had no way to know what would really happen, so guesses ranged from ‘nothing would happen’ to ‘death,’ and everything in-between. And for every guessed symptom there was an equally unknown prognosis…

“Ms. Niijima?”

Makoto looked up to find Tetsu staring down at her. Other men were in the room, too. She hadn’t noticed them arrive. More of Otohime’s soldiers picking up the fallen enemies. She needed to get Ren out of here. Needed to get him safe. Get him seen by people who might know what’s going on. A hospital? No. What could they do? And if anything was wrong with Ren’s body, her heal spell would have fixed it. This was some other problem. A metaverse something or other. Makoto needed the other Phantom Thieves. Leblanc. She needed to get Ren back to Leblanc.

“Get us a car!” said Makoto, her voice sharp and fierce. She didn’t have much control over herself at the moment.

Tetsu took a slight step back. “Of course.”


End file.
